


Who am I?

by LadyMD



Series: Different Roads Sometimes Lead to the Same Castle [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Coming of Age, Face-changing, Gen, Graphic Violence, Nightmares, Queen Sansa, Revenge, Sansa & Arya Reunion Hug, Sansa & Arya rebuild their relationship, Sibling Bonding, Warging, identity crisis, no one - Freeform, reclamation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMD/pseuds/LadyMD
Summary: In which we go through the Arya's struggle to hold on to her identity as she switches between faces with barely the right amount of training for both her survival as well as a means for her mission, while also discovering that she is a warg. Everyday is a strict routine. Three tests of reality once she wakes, then a litany of names to kill before she sleeps, and the day goes on in between with her wearing two faces-two names she lets slip into her skin, and in dreams she succumbs to the skin of her lost wolf. Along the way, she finds unlikely help until she finally reaches home to rejoin the remaining Stark pack, rebuilding relationships while trying to find her own place.





	1. No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! For those familiar with my series, I'm so happy you're sticking around for this! For those who are not, you don't really need to read my series as this can be read as is alone. Hope you enjoy!  
> This is for my friend and fellow The Princess Bride fan, no_longer_lurking :)

** No One **

_"Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth." - **Syrio Forel**_

* * *

 

_Running._

_I was running._

_From what?_

_Or was I chasing?_

_Who was I chasing?_

_What was I...hunting?_

_**There.**  
_

_I stayed low and waited._

_My gaze steady though my sight kept shifting sharply, ears high up and twitching._

_At the sound of a twig snapping, I lunged from my hiding place with a growl._

_Then_

_Then..._

_Blood._

_**Crunching.**  
_

_Warmth._

_**Lapping.**  
_

_My claws heavily pressing against the struggling buck_ -  ** _claws?_**

_His blood staining my muzzle as I held its neck between my mouth - **muzzle?**_

_I blinked but instead of seeing my dying prey, I was greeted now by yellow eyes and massive smoke grey fur._

_"Nymeria?"_

_The Direwolf didn't move, not even to blink._

_I gasped when I realized. This wasn't Nymeria. The fur was darker - the darkest shade of grey and the eyes were a deeper color of gold._

_"G-grey Wind?"_

_He didn't move._

_I stepped back and what I saw paralyzed me._

_I wasn't the predator anymore but prey - **no -**_ _not prey but not predator either before - before the alpha - my wolf identified._

 _The head was undeniably Grey Wind's - his yellow eyes wide and blank, his mouth - all sharp fangs on a frozen snarl, a bronze crown of swords and runes on its head._ _While below..._

_...were the brown bloodied leathers of my brother._

_Before I could react, its head suddenly moved - eyes trained on me._

_I gasped but I still stood frozen until words poured out its unmoving mouth in Robb's roughened voice._

_"_ _Winter...is...coming...Winter...is...coming..." it kept chanting and chanting over and over and over switching to "The...lone...wolf...dies...the...lone...wolf...dies...the lone wolf... lone wolf... dies..."_

_Where was I hearing this? Out loud? Inside my mind?_

_Robb! Robb! It's me! It's me! Arya! I tried to say as well as mentally scream but only growls and whimpers came out._

_It kept repeating its chant while I struggled to get away_

_I was able to move a foot but so did he atop a gallop, charging towards me._

_"Lone wolf...dies...."_

_"Dies..."_

_"Dies..."_

_"DIES!"_

_I screamed._

 .

..

...

I opened my eyes only to be greeted by darkness.

Panting, I felt my throat was raw and my hair plastered against my face in cold sweat. 

I shivered and shivered, my mind still cloudy and reeling from another wolf dream that I had while I struggled to remember where I am and who I was.

Judging from the complete darkness, it was ironically, the hour of the wolf  - the only sound of life in this dingy room was my shaky breathing. 

I crossed my arms against my chest, closing my eyes and focused on deep, calming breaths.

_It was only a dream. A nightmare. I'm awake. I'm back._

_I'm back. I'm back. I'm back._

_But who am I? Just_ **who** is back?

I shook my head, and the semblance of sane thought came by little by little.

Who was I in that dream? Or what  _was_ I?

I gritted my teeth as I prepared to scold myself.  _Inside a wolf of course!_ Fangs, claws, growls. _Wolf._  

As if I suddenly forgot. 

A wolf.

_Every night._

I shook my head, one hand in my hair the other clutched in my aching chest. 

Who am I _now?_

Was I No One?

Where was I again?

 _In my dream I was in The Riverlands._ It was  _always_ in The Riverlands.

Was it -  _No  -_ I shook my head. I dare not hope. No. 

I shook my head again. Dream. That was a only a dream. Of course I'd dream of _that._ I'm awake now. 

Awake, awake,  _awake._

I shut my eyes and took deep breaths before the panic fully settled. 

 _I'm awake._ _Who are you?_ I demanded of myself. 

There was a sudden ache -  _a stretch and pull ache -_ at my stomach -  _no, aches._ I dropped my hand and felt the the raised flesh under my shirt. 

One.

Two.

Three. 

And then I remembered.  _Three._

_Three tests at the beginning._

Three tests. Three tests. Three tests. 

_One._

First.  _First test. The Face._

I swallowed and leant over the drawer on the nightstand I always made sure I'd get on any lodging and groped for a candle. 

Light sizzled at a flick, bathing the room in dull yellow just barely showing that I was inside a small room in a dingy inn.  _I've been here for two days._ I recalled. But before that, the first test. I felt for the cool chain of the locket I procured - cheap bronze with hardly any markings. I took it off and probed for the latch and once opened, the candle light bounced off the two mirrors it held inside. 

Positioning it, I was ready for the first test while voices, like clockwork, echoed through my head. 

 

_"Opening your eyes is all that is needing."_

**_"You have my sister's look."_ **

**"A boy becomes a girl. I was always aware."**

 

Holding it up to my face, I sighed in relief to see grey eyes looking back at me from one of the mirrors.

Eyes of Father. Eyes of my brother. 

_Eyes of a Stark._

But there was more and there was also another voice as I looked into the other mirror.

 

**"I see a darkness in you. And in that darkness, eyes starring back at me. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Eyes sealed shut forever."**

 

I  grabbed my sword, unsheathing it, running a finger down its skinny length until it reached the tip where I pricked myself deliberately - the sting and the sight of red completing my first test. 

The first test was always the hardest. Today was one I could call a good day when I see _this_ face staring back at me - _not eyes of blue, not eyes of black, and certainly not eyes of green if I could help it. No black hair. No greying hair. Not red. Not blonde._ No. Today's test was easy. 

The first test was the true test. The other two merely confirmations.

Second test.  _The Identity._

As I stared at my reflection, I asked myself.  _"What's your name?"_

Noting my eyes, my hair, my sword, my solitude, I almost answered right away when I saw another face on the other mirror. _I was wrong._ Today wasn't that easy, but it was easier than most.

The next reflection I saw had none of the grey, none of the brown, none of the solemn long face. 

 _"What's your name?"_ I repeated.

"No One," I answered low under my breath.  _Arya Stark_ my mind screamed. 

Third test.  _The Mission._

_"What is your mission?"_

"Valar Morghulis."  _Winterfell._

 


	2. Talea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on the Titan of Braavos. It is said it roars every time a ship enters and exits the city, as well as every hour of the day.

 

_Running._

_I was running again._

_Weaving through the woods beside the forking rivers, I stopped when I heard and smelled someone._

_Silently, I stalked closer to the river, listening with my head tilted at the sound, my nose picking up the smell of blood, mud, and human._

_Crouching down to the ground as I made my way closer to the river bank, I almost growled out when I saw armor and steel._

_There was a sizeable man on his front gasping from the banks, half of him still submerged in the river. His hair was too caked in mud and filth to make out the color but I think it was brown - or close to it._

_No._

_Red._

_I howled instinctively when the man flipped onto his back and I saw the black trout sigil engraved on his armor as he gasped for air._

_No. That hair was not brown but red._

_I howled again and this time I met his eyes._

_Red with streaks of silver and his eyes were the same blue as my mother's - my sister's - my brothers'._

_Red, silver, blue._

_He was a Tully._

_He extended a hand at me while he gasped for air._

_He knows what I am and who I represent._

_His face was hard and scarred yet handsome still with the same sharp bones of my mother._

_Looking at the black trout on his chest rather than a silver I would've expected, I knew who he was now._

_The Blackfish._

_And then behind him suddenly were lions that lunged - appearing from nowhere._

_I growled and roared louder as I pounced towards them._

 

* * *

** Talea **

_"You know, we've got something in common, me and you. You know that? I must have been a couple of years older than you. I saw my brother stabbed through the heart right on our doorstep. He weren't much of a villain what skewered him. Willem, the lad's name was. He ran off before anyone could spit. And I just stood there, watching my brother die. Here's the funny part. I can't picture my brother's face anymore. But Willem, oh, he was a nice-looking boy. He had good white teeth, blue eyes, one of those dimpled chins all the girls like. I would think about him when I was working, when I was drinking, when I was having a shit. It got to the point where I would say his name every night before I went to bed. Willem. Willem. Willem. A prayer almost. Well, one day, Willem came riding back into town. I buried an ax so deep in Willem's skull they had to bury him with it. Willem's horse got me to the Wall and I've been wearing black ever since. That'll help you sleep, eh?" -_ **_Yoren_ **

 

The Face: Dull blue eyes, crooked teeth, small nose, hallowed cheeks, mousy brown hair.

The Identity: Talea, daughter of Brusco a fishmonger of Braavos

The Misson: Get out of Braavos 

 

. . .

 

Talea wanders down the rocky coasts, tugging her threadbare sleeves down her arm then rubbing it to stay the shivers. She was shivering again. 

Talea always shivers. 

To keep her mind off the cold that seemed to follow her everywhere, she tries to blend in the crowd, her ears up in listening for any talk of leaving the islands as today, she woke up with the goal of booking passage to Maidenpool which she heard despite being sacked multiple times, was being rebuilt by the Lord of Horn Hill. Yes. She would do nicely there. 

She could fish, dive for clams - yes she would do nicely there, she thought again. 

_Anything is better than being a child whore._

So Talea, her brown ratty hair whipping about loose from her braids, kept walking, tripping and shivering every other step, still she walked. 

Talea followed the _Long Canal,_  weaving through the busy fishmarket, trying to be conspicuous. It was a good thing it was her sister Brea who sold their shellfish. And she did so only when the Titan of Braavos roared for the third time from first light. 

The Titan had already roared twice since she started and yet Talea has yet to find a ship sailing West. 

 _Mayhaps I should just ask?_ She thought.

So Talea went about asking. 

It was only when she reached the  _Purple Harbor_  and the roar of another hour rang throughout the city did she finally found what she was looking for. 

But the circumstances, far from what she expected. 

There was only one ship set for Maidenpool and... it was a galley.  _The Lady Myr_ it was called. But that didn't matter. What mattered was it was more than she could afford. 

Yet Talea had walked too far and too long to turn back. So she waited.

Waited and waited.

The city trembled once more from the Titan's roar, marking another hour and she was finally inside. 

Talea was successful. 

Success, though, was short-lived. 

Two large hands brought her easily inside a dark cabin - one around her mouth, another around her waist. 

Talea knew better than to waste her energy in struggling so she did what she did best and waited. Shivered and waited.

A hundred thrum of heartbeats and breaths - muffled and clear later, her captor spoke, his accent thick.  _Summer Islander._ She identified. 

"If you promise not to scream, I will not harm you."

Talea was doubtful, yet she nodded and was released at once. 

She stood her ground, her hand already moving to her back to reach for the dagger she always kept when the cabin was flooded with candle light. 

Before her, a tall broad man with ebony skin, dark eyes, and feather cape had his back to her as he extinguished the flint he used. 

"There is no need to be frightened, my lady. And there is certainly no need to keep that face," he said without looking at me. 

A tremble tore through my body at the shock of his words but I shook my head before he realized my slip. 

Talea looks at him confused. "Mi-milord, I d-do not understand? W-what face? And I-I am no lady."

I almost slipped again.  _I am no lady._

Talea blinks. "Milord?"

The man looks at Talea again, his eyes steady, his body calm. But he says nothing, merely raises a brow and points at Takea to take a seat. "It's alright child. I am hiding too. Only, the captain is my friend."

There was no way to know if he was lying but I didn't have much choice so I pulled a chair and sat near the door. He kept his brow raised but didn't comment, only nodded. And then I saw him more closely, I  _knew_ him.  _But Talea didn't._

"Ah. It seems  _you_ know me. So it narrows it down. I have only traveled from the Summer Isles to the Crownlands. And I have just arrived here and am only waiting for my guide to take me to Mereen. We could only have met in the Crownlands, my lady," he smiled. 

We did. Again,  _Talea didn't._

So Talea said nothing.

He sighed. "I am also a fugitive, having just escaped from King's Landing. Why you want to go back West, I don't know. But mayhaps, I could help you." 

"My father plans on selling me. There's nothing for me here," Talea answered defiantly with a tinge of sadness.

"Nothing for a Braavosi in the Free Cities?" He said patiently but with a brow raised, clearly on to her ruse. 

Talea bit her lip.  _He has a point._  She thought.

He sighed again. "I have an idea who you are, though no explanation of how you are  _you_ now or why you're even here. But I think you are the lost princess. Or rather... the lost wolf?"

All hope of maintaining my mask was gone. Talea was gone. I have yet to slip off her face just the same. 

His eyes glinted. "Say the words and take off your mask."

I slipped the face off. "Valar Morghulis."

He bowed. "Valar Dohaeris.  _Princess Arya Stark."_

"Prince Jalabhar Xho," I nodded back. The Prince of the Red Flower Vale. He was one of the guest as well as a competitor at father's tourney. 

"Very good, your grace."

"What gave me away?" 

"It was either you were a Stark heading North from West, or you are a Targaryen, heading West. Only those two houses have reason to come back to Westeros. And I have heard that the only living Targaryen has an army while one of the two Stark princesses that went missing since Robert Baratheon's death was last seen near the Saltpans. I also know that Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard was brutally murdered  _here._ Most curious," he said carefully yet his eyes had a somewhat satisfied gleam. 

I looked down then as I mulled over his words. "I am not a princess."

"Your brother was King in the North, was he not?" 

Images of reaching the Twins  _that_ night as well as my recent dream stopped me from answering. 

I snapped out of it when he handed me a skin of the wine he was drinking. I looked up at him as he looked down at my hands that to my horror, were shaking. "Drink, child. It will stay the shaking."

Wordlessly, I drank, my nose scrunching at the too strong yet sweet summerwine. But it did help me calm down. 

"Are you sure you want to go back North? Aren't you one of the faceless men? Or were you sent into a mission?" Jalabhar asked instead.

I looked up at him once more. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

 He examined me for a score before his mouth quirked up. "No other home but your own, isn't that right little wolf?" 

I smiled a little knowing that he understood well. Everyone called him the  _beggar lord,_ awaiting the day King Robert finally aided him in reclaiming his seat in the Summer Isles. Now he was on his way just as I was too. My smile fell quickly when a thought occurred to me. 

"My - my sister?" I looked him squarely - preparing for  _any_  answer. 

A look passed his face briefly that sent ice to my veins and the familiar flurry of dread started to weigh on my chest. 

He nodded at me to take another sip but I shook my head just once and urged him to answer - his eyes filled with sympathy...anger... _guilt_.

"I was at the Sept of Baelor when they called for my father's head. I was at the Twins just as they killed my brother and mother. My younger brothers were killed and burned. Tell me. How did they kill my sister?  _Who_ killed my sister?"

He was the one who took a long swig before adjusting in his seat, sighing before answering, his eyes finding the decency to look at me straight and unwavering. "To start, there is no word that your sister is dead. Probably still alive and in hiding. But -  _take your seat please -_ Thank you. There's so much you need to know." 

My eyes widened and hardened just as the rest of my body did as he recalled everything he witnessed since they took father's head. Every limb felt leaden - my teeth on the brink of cracking against itself, my nails likely drawing blood from how tightly I was gripping at my knees with each word that Jalabhar Xho spoke. 

By the time he finished, I had eight new names. Two of them already crossed out. And it was settled that no fucking Lannister would be left living if I had to take down Casterly Rock stone by fucking stone.  _Yes,_ even the fucking  _Imp._ He  _still_ took my sister as _his._

_Ser Boros Blount. Ser Preston Greenfield. Ser Arys Oakheart. Ser Osmund Kettleblack.  Ser Balon Swann._

_I swallowed. Ser Mandon Moore.  Killed in battle._

And...  _Ser Meryn Trant._ But I already killed the perverted shit. Thank the gods I killed him brutal, knowing the cunt definitely took pleasure in beating defenseless girls  - at beating  _Sansa._ I gritted my teeth. No, it wasn't enough. Eyes. Tongue. It wasn't enough.  _I should've hacked his cock off and buggered him with it._

 _Kingsguard._ I felt like retching.  _Sick, cowardly cunts._ More like it. 

 _Images of my beautiful sister beaten up by the knights she sang about. Images of her being bedded by the Imp. Was she pregnant? Did she carry a lion spawn?_ I stopped. It's too much to think.  _Sansa..._ My throat tightened. I should not have left her there.

There was one more name though.

_Petyr Baelish._

At that name from all that I heard of him, my blood ran too cold it burned painfully through the veins - to my skin. 

"Arya?" 

My eyes cut to him as he looked at me with a knowing smirk. "I take it you still plan on going back?"

I glowered. "More than ever."

He gave an approving nod. "While I admire and understand truly more than most, might I ask how a lone pup will manage on her own?"

I scoffed. "I've been a lone wolf for a long time and I'm still standing." 

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Still, humor me."

"Anything can be done with the right face."

"Ah."

I crossed my legs as well as my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are  _you_  in hiding anyway?"

He shrugged. "I was accused of having relations with the new queen Margery Tyrell - one of the many that was the cause of her majesty's imprisonment."

My jaw dropped but closed shut when I realized it. "Cersei's work, no doubt. Fucking Lannisters! That power-hungry bitch."

 _ **You remind of me my daughter.**_ Tywin Lannister's almost impressed voice rang into my head. 

 _Like hell I do!_ I shook my head. "Why would she want the new queen imprisoned? Tommen is easier to manipulate and his queen is just his consort."

Jalabhar chuckled bitterly. "You forget, little wolf, that Margaery Tyrell has been thrice wedded to  _Baratheon_ kings. She  _wants_ to be the queen. The  _only_ queen. And she is a clever woman. Very clever. Winning everyone with her beauty, her charm, and her convenient kindness.  _Everyone_ loved her."

My lips curled up. "And everyone  _hates_ Cersei."

He nodded. "Queen Margaery, lovely lady as she was and aware of it to her advantage, was far too smart to let anyone other than a king to share her bed. I had just hoped to gain her favor so she'd persuade the king to aid my cause by offering to teach her the summer tongue. That is all." He frowned then looked back at me. "She tried to help your sister too by marrying her off to her brother Loras or maybe even the older one - Willas."

My chest caught. "Sansa would've loved that. Lady Sansa Tyrell of Highgarden."

He sighed. "Your sister was betrayed and married off quickly to the Imp - especially since your brother would not trade the Kingslayer for her," he wrinkled his nose before looking at me. "And you of course, once they found you."

I wanted to lash out at him and defend Robb but I didn't understand.  _Robb had the chance to trade for us?_

He sensed my conflict. "I'm sure he had a different plan of getting you both out." He offered out of sympathy but I knew it wasn't the case.  _What the fuck, Robb?_

I took another gulp of wine and glared at the tankard. "My father went to war for his sister." I gripped at the handle. "My  _uncle_ and  _grandfather_ went before the throne for my aunt and  _died_ for her. My father  _lied_ before the people to  _save_ us. What is one Kingslayer - "

I felt a hand on my shoulder then, large and warm and firm. My breathing came fast and deep as my body trembled. 

"Arya - "

I shook my head.  _"No._ What the fuck did Robb think? If the rumors were true, Cersei would've gladly traded to have her  _beloved_ twin back!" I stood up, knocking my chair over. "Why did he marry another if he was betrothed? Why did he send fucking Greyjoy to Winterfell? If he traded then Sansa would be with him and mother! If he married the Frey girl, they would all be alive and I would've joined them eventually! If he didn't send Theon, Bran and Rickon -  _Seven hells!_ "

It was only when Jalabhar crouched in front of me and held me gently by my arms that I realized I was crying. 

"Arya Stark. Look at me."

I shut my eyes tight and clenched my firsts.

His grip tightened briefly in a comforting manner.  _"Look at me, wolfling."_

Reluctantly I looked at him and his eyes were firm. "What is done, is done. Your uncle and grandfather died for your aunt. Your aunt died in the end. Your father, Lord Eddard, is dead. Your brother, the King in the North, is dead. Your mother, the Lady of Winterfell, is dead. Your brothers are dead. But you -  _you_ Arya Stark, the Princess of the North is still alive. Your sister might still be alive too but until we know for sure,  _you,_ wolfling - the _last_ Stark, you are the rightful Queen of the North and should act as such. It's not about just revenge anymore."

I gaped at him.  _Queen?_ No. No. No. No.  _No._ Sansa. Sansa is the queen. Sansa is alive. She has to be. I can't be the only - "My brother - my brother is still -still alive at the Wall - he's still - " I froze when I saw the look on his face.

"No."

"Arya."

"NO!"

He stopped talking. No. Jon -  _Jon -_ not  _Jon._ "Tell me."  _Not Jon!_

"Your brother at the Wall... he hasn't come back from beyond it. He was on the party who went looking for your uncle - 

"Uncle Benjen too?!" I cut him off. What did we do to earn so much misfortune? Weren't we - the Starks known for nothing but honor? Why did they want us all dead? We don't even give a fuck about the damn chair and the fucking South! 

"Jon is alive. Sansa is alive," I said stubbornly. "Until I see their corpses, I won't believe it."

He nodded at me. "Believe as you must, but carry on and do not dispel the possibility. I know all too well what that hope of not being the sole survivor of my family can feel like. But unlike you, I already have my certainty that I am the last one."

I sat back down. He pulled the other chair that I knocked down and dragged it in front of me and sat. "The captain is my friend. I will tell him you are my guest and to see to your safe passage to Maidenpool. This I can give easily. But gold and men, I neither have. Just the right friends, which are worth more than all the gold in the world for survival. Do you think you can manage to find friends of your own there?"

I shook my head slowly. 

He just nodded. "I figured as much. It is the Tarly family who hold Maidenpool and they are loyal vassals of Highgarden. Though the Tyrells are in outrage against the Lannisters, I would advise against going to them for now. Their hands are tied as long as Cersei holds two of their own in her cells. There are some who says that your great-uncle the Blackfish is still alive. If not him, your mother's vassal - the Blackwoods are loyal."

I nodded at him as I mulled over his words and leant back. "How do you know so much?"

He smiled then. "Do you know of a woman in King's Landing by the name of Chataya?"

"The brothel owner?" He smiled wider and then I realized. "She - she spies for you?"

He nodded. "Chattaya is an old lover of mine before she came to the capital. Do you know she works for another spy?"

"Littlefinger?" I tilted my head and spat out.

He shook his head. "No, wolfling, though Baelish does use his...employ to coax secrets. Try again."

It can't be the Queen. She used those simpering maids and eager noble ladies. Her eyes lit up then. "The Spider."

"Yes.  _We_ decided to work  _with_ Lord Varys. He is the reason I am here. If I am to take back my seat, I must first treat with the Dragon Queen in Mereen. Aid her conquests here and once she gains the seven kingdoms, she'll help me take back mine. She'll need some counsel on ruling and information about the throne she means to take."

"Dragon Queen? The Targaryen girl? She's still alive?" I gaped at him.

"Oh yes. With  _three dragons._ I might add. Thanks in part to your lord father who spoke against her assassination. Though it's been three moons since I've last corresponded with Lord Varys. So everything I've shared with you is dated as such. I can only hope but that is better than being stuck in the seven hells of the capital," he grimaced.

I did find out that it was for this reason my father handed his pin over. Three dragons. Seven hells. Maybe I should go with him and make an ally out of her. But what if she was mad as her father? What if she burns me for being a Stark?

"Six."

"Six?" He echoed.

"She will only get six kingdoms. The North is independent," I stated. "Let her have all the Southern shits. I don't care. But the North shall not kneel to anyone any more."

He grinned then. "And now you are talking like the heir apparent to the North. But I shall speak nonetheless for the Starks as allies if I am successful with treating with her and tell her that  _we_ all know what it means to have our rightful places taken and _who_ should be our common enemy."

I couldn't frown forever. "Thank you, your grace." I said and I meant it.

He stood up and patted my head like Jon and Robb used to do, making something catch in my chest again, just as we heard the roar of the Titan outside. "Ah. Now this is the time I talk to the captain, wish you good fortune, and go my way."

I stood up then and walked awkwardly in front of him. "Why are you helping me?"

He smiled, bent down, and whispered. "What do you say to the god of death?"

I sucked in a breath and met his eyes. 

He raised a brow, his dark eyes warm but he shook his head. "Syrio Forel was my only friend in the Keep. So what do you say, Arya Stark?"

Tears blurred my vision. "Not today."

He released me with a short bow. "Not today it is, the god must've heard when he sent me to you. Now go home, Arya Stark.  _Winter is coming._ "

* * *

 

 

_The galley rocked as the storm surged outside and my candle has long burned out. I clutched my blanket closer as the faces glowed bright and clear in my head._

_"Cersei... Jamie... Tyrion... Walder Frey... Melisandre... Beric Dondarrion... Thoros of Myr... Ilyn Payne... The Mountain...Roose Bolton...Theon Greyjoy..."_

_A loud crack from outside preceded by the shocking white light stopped me for a moment._

__"Ser Boros Blount... Ser Preston Greenfield... Ser Arys Oakheart... Ser Osmund Kettleblack...  Ser Balon Swann..."__

__Another crack sounded but only earned to spark my rage more than ever._ _

__"Petyr Baelish."_ _

__Finally, I closed my eyes._ _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I definitely left the first chapter's timeline vague, but this one follows Arya leaving the House of Black and White. She doesn't really know what's been happening at Westeros and as with the book and the TV series, the timelines of the different characters do not necessarily occur simultaneously as they are shown. She gets an update by Jalabhar Xho but most of what he knows are already outdated.  
> For those who follow my series: This chapter does however, occur right before Bran finds Arya on a boat towards Westeros in his POV "When we can meet again" where he is warged into a cat. We'll see that briefly from Arya's POV in the next chapter which is coming up later. 
> 
> Phew. So much research for this. Just in case, you can look up a map of Braavos to visualize the Long Canal and the Purple Harbor, as well as look up Jalabhar Xho. He was always an interesting character from the book. I hope you like my liberty of linking him to Varys via Chataya - a well known brothel owner in King's Landing. Talea is also from the book as a background character. And the Lady of Myr is an actual galley from the book that was seen in Maidenpool.


	3. ???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for those who are still with me here! I love you guys! There will be three more after this.  
> This chapter will briefly have Arya's meeting with Bran from her perspective. Arya sums it up here but if you want to read the conversation in full, just read the previous work from this series: When we can meet again which is Bran's POV.

_The moon was full as_ **we** _howled and howled._

_Or rather I howled and the rest followed._

_I stood high on a boulder and scanned them as they emerged from the trees._

_Yellow eyes._

_Green eyes._

_Black eyes._

_Red eyes._

_Fangs._

_Claws._

_Grey fur. Brown fur. Black fur. White. Silver. Red..._

_Sitting on their haunches with their heads lowered and waiting._

_A flash of white lead me to turn my sight to the large white tree in the middle with blood-red leaves and a weeping face etched on its bark._

_I padded towards it and I knew I wasn't at the woods of the river lands anymore once I saw the black pool in front of it._

_"Nyyyymmmeeeerrriiiiaaa..."_

_I stiffened when I thought I heard something. But all I heard was the rustling of the leaves._

_I looked down at the pool and saw my reflection. Gold eyes. Grey fur._

_"Ny-meee-ri-aaaahh..."_

* * *

 

_ **???**_

_" **Who are you?"**_

_"Arya Stark."_

**_(Smack)_ **

**_"And where did you come from?"_ **

_"Westeros."_

**_(Hit)_ **

**_"Lie."_ **

_"I'm not lying."_ **_  
_ **

**_"A girl lies to me, to the Many-faced Gods, to herself. Does she truly want to be no one?"_ **

**_"_ ** _Yes! I'm not playing this stupid game anymore."_

**_(Slap. Thwack. Smack.)_ **

**_"We never stop playing."_ **

**_\- The Kindly Man_ **

_. . ._

_I woke up and I felt something was wrong._

_I blinked. It was my vision._

_I started panicking, fearing that I was going blind again but no._

_It was dark but I could see clearly._

_I felt myself on my haunches but it wasn't like my dreams - like a wolf's._

_Wait._

_Maybe I was still dreaming._

_But no._

_This was the hallway of the ship._

_I tested my body._

_I tried to speak but what I heard was the high pitched "mrree-o-ow."_

_And the next thing I knew I was thrown against the wall, a throbbing pain on my back where something hit me._

_"Out of the way wi' you! 'ow'd you get in 'ere?"_

_A hiss escaped me earning another kick._

_"Away with you cat."_

_A cat._

_I was in a cat._

_My belly ached._

_I wasn't dreaming._

_I blinked and blinked and blinked willing myself to wake up anyway while I felt my heart thumping fast._

_How? What?_

_Another blow._

_The next thing I knew I was on a different room and everything was blurry and tinged with green._

_I couldn't make out where I was but I was sure I was still in the Lady of Myr._

_I didn't know why but suddenly I was pulled to scamper into a tiny hole while the shuffling of feet came louder._

_"Just who is the captain's guest? Why is a little girl so important?"_

_My heart thumped and I felt my nose twitching while something swished behind me - a tail - a tail!_

_"A daughter of a Lord. Mayhaps."_

_"It is bad luck to host a lady in voyage."_

_"We have strict orders not to even look at her."_

_"I don't like it."_

_They were talking about me._

_I ran out of my hiding place and almost retreated when I realized how small I was when I saw I was notches lower than the boots in front of me._

_I froze in fear when I realized I was probably in a different body._

_And then I felt grunts and stomping. "Fuck there's a rat!"_

_I dodged their stomping but not after one heavy foot met with my tail, making a beeline back to the hole I hid in before._

_"What's all that noise?"_

_"A fucking rat spooked this one here."_

_"A rat? Well it's a good thing I found this cat then - almost beaten to death by the bastard."_

_My body shook. A cat?! Was I that cat just a moment ago? I was a rat now?_

_I tried closing my eyes willing myself to get out._

_It wasn't a dream because the pain on my tail - tail!_

_..._

I blinked and heaved heavy breaths while my heart raced, willing my eyes to adjust right away, relaxing when I felt the soft feathered mattress beneath me. 

My hands flew to my face, feeling for my nose, my mouth, my jaw, my neck - checking and checking - I held up my hands to my face and saw fingers. 

I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of them, moving them under my shirt to feel for my scars. 

Three. 

I reminded myself.

Three.

Yes. Yes.

I groped for my locket, opening the latch with shaky fingers but instead of being comforted at what I saw in the mirror, my panic increased tenfold when I did not recognize the face that looked back at me. 

Blue eyes. 

Crooked teeth.

Sharp cheeks. 

_No. no. no. no. no._

_Who is this?_

_Who am I?_

_Was I awake?_

Three.

Three.

Three.

First. 

First.

First.

Who am I?

Who do you see?

I moved my hand and some recognition came back when I felt the scars once more. 

I tried to steady my breathing as I glanced around my surroundings. I felt the sway of the room -  _I was on a boat._ A boat. No. A galley.

I looked at the locket. Bronze. 

Bronze.

Three scars.

I fished at my pockets and felt something smooth inside it that I took out.

A cockle shell.

And then it came back to me. 

Who am I? At the reflection, I was Talea. The runaway fishmonger's daughter. But from my scars I was Arya Stark. 

I felt for Needle and pricked my finger. Yes, I was Arya parading as a Braavosi girl. For what? I didn't need to hide anymore, the captain said. 

I looked into the mirror again but saw none of the blue eyes, none of the crooked teeth, none of the mousy brown hair. All I saw was my own face staring back at me with a panicked expression.

_So I was only seeing things?_

I must've. I now remembered I already threw away Talea's face. How can I wear it now? 

Grey eyes. Brown hair. Long face. I am Arya Stark and my goal is Winterfell.

I dropped back down to my bed and sighed in relief now that the panic has gone. But I was still scared of closing my eyes for too long. 

I thought it was only through dreams - being inside a wolf. But the pain I felt earlier was much to real to be a dream.

I was awake earlier than now. I  _have_ been awake. Only I was inside a cat and a rat. 

I've heard about this. Old Nan used to tell stories about this.

What was this called?

Slipping through skins?

Something like that. What was it that Old Nan used to say about this? 

Only blood of the First Men could  _live_ inside animals, slipping into their skins - skinchaning!

_The blood of the First Men flowed through the Starks._

This was it. 

This was the only explanation.

I wasn't losing my mind. I was _skinchanging._

I swallowed. If taking faces was possible, and dragons lived, why can't skinchanging too?

I was broken from my thoughts when I heard scratching at my door. 

With needle in one hand, I made to open the door slowly.

No one.

I was too tired and too keyed up maybe I  _was_ hearing things. 

But then I felt something brush against my foot and when I looked down, there was a small black cat looking up at me with a bruise purpling on its belly.

* * *

I glanced at the quarter moon after my talk with the captain.

I would be reaching Maidenpool in three days.

I felt the familiar soft brushing against my ankles and saw the black cat purring as it nudged against me. I smiled as I bent down and petted its head. I had three more days to practice  _warging_ as the captain told me when I asked if he knew of old stories from the North. His brother was married to a northerner who regaled him with stories when he was younger. Jalabhar Xho was right when he said I could trust his captain friend. 

He only needed to say Stark when the captain said "The North Remembers, my lady." And that was that.

It took some time but I could now easily slip into this cat's skin at will. I hadn't had success with the mice and rats or birds. I learned that it was easier once you've bonded with the animal.

I realized that my dreams were more than dreams even if they were somehow mixed with nightmares in the end. My heart leapt with joy knowing that I was in  _Nymeria._

Nymeria was alive and in the river lands. 

I would find her then. 

But until I do, this cat would have to do. 

Once I reached my cabin and barred the door I sat down crossed legged on the floor and set the cat in front of me. 

I closed my eyes and started slipping in but I was met with resistance.

I tried again but the cat's green eyes suddenly turned brown.

My heart picked up. 

The cat purred.

Maybe I  _was_ losingmy mind. But I've already perfected slipping into this cat. There was only one reason why I couldn't now.  _Was it the captain's nephew? Was he a warg too? Was there a Wilding in the ship?_ _Did I give myself away to the captain?_ I never told him I was a warg, merely asked him if he knew.

Whoever it was, he was warged into my cat. 

There was no escape from this galley, not when we were in the middle of the Narrow Sea. I would have to keep better watch but for now I have to let whoever it was know that I  _knew._

I narrowed my eyes at the cat.

"You're not just a cat, aren't you?"

The cat sat on its haunches, tilted its head, and blinked at me.

And this was how Bran found me. 

I was speaking to a cat.

I was speaking to Bran. 

Well, I asked questions, and he nodded or purred.

So Bran was a warg, same as me. The Starks were all capable of warging as I learned. But Bran for sure was something else. I'd have to ask the captain again. I told him of my plans and then I asked about my siblings. I almost cried when I learned that only Robb and my parents were dead. There were still five of us alive! 

When I rolled out the map, Bran placed his paw on where they were and my heart dropped when he showed me we were all scattered. 

Rickon was in Last Hearth. Safe with the Umbers, he nodded in confirmation.

Jon was beyond the wall still - I'll kneel tonight and pray he returns to the Wall soon. Bran again, with a nod, told me he was safe.

Sansa. I asked if she was alive. He nodded. I asked if she was in danger, remembering what Jalabhar told me. Bran growled . She was. Dread filled me even if I expected it. So I asked where she was. He hesitated before placing his paw on top of Winterfell.

I felt the blood leave my face at the implication. Sansa was home. At home but in danger. There was nothing I could do but find allies or figure out something before I go to her. Winterfell was built to be difficult to breach and the captain told me the Boltons held it now. 

My blood ran cold then.

Boltons. 

The Boltons had Sansa.

The Boltons were working with the Freys and the Lannisters. 

I felt a deep cold surge in my body.

_Sansa was as good as dead._

I shook my head as quickly as that thought formed. She endured King's Landing. She'll not die in her own home. 

Finally I asked where he was and he pointed to a weirwood. 

Images of the same tree swirled through my mind and I remembered my dream. 

Bran was definitely something  _more._

* * *

 I watched the blood, red and oozing out of my finger even after I was done with all three tests. 

I was getting better, both in face-changing and in warging as I practiced here in the _Lady of Myr._

But doing it simultaneously almost caused me to lose myself _again._

Wrapping my arms around my knees, I was on the floor, my back against my bed while the boat rocked against another storm that delayed our arrival. I brought my finger to my lips and sucked on it, tasting the coppery taste of blood, unflinching from the taste and the pain. 

I wasn't trembling this time.

But my eyes were still wide open.

I only slept from the hour of the wolf to first light. 

Just three hours and nothing more. And always near morning. 

Even if I was getting better, I was still afraid of the day I woke up in a new face, a new body, with no memories - not even a name. 

I didn't have to prick my fingers and draw blood - feeling the sharp poke was enough but I still find myself  _needing_ to see the blood ever since that night I almost lost myself the first time. 

I didn't sleep for two nights then until the captain found me shaking outside his cabin, half-crazed and exhausted. I had slipped unknowingly into a seagull and into another mice and found half of my face as another's before I took that off and ran blindingly, ending up where he found me. 

Nightmares. He told me. Nightmares, he figured I'd have. And nerves. And fear. 

That night I thought I saw my father as he carried me to his cot, made me drink three drops of essence of nightshade before tucking me in and stroking my hair. 

That night was the longest sleep I had in years. 

The longest.

And the only one that was dreamless. 

No wolves. No blood. No lions. No faces.

And the only night I didn't need to recite names.

When I woke up, I was Arya Stark from first light to last. 

No face changing. No skinchanging.

I even skipped my three tests.

At least for just one day.

* * *

 

The pink stone walls came to view as we neared the harbor of Maidenpool from the Bay of Crabs. 

Thoughts of Sansa singing songs about Florian and Jonquil came as I tried to remember all that I know of the place. Among all the stories she loved, she loved tales of these two the most though one of the songs -  _Six Maids in a Pool_ was bawdy. 

She remembered watching Robb kneel before Sansa who had flowers in her hair when she would convince him to play with her.

Sansa would hold her nose high. " _You are no knight, I know you. You are Florian the Fool."_

Robb would tilt his head and give his charming smile.  " _I am, my lady, As great a fool as ever lived, and as great a knight as well."_

Then Sansa would scrunch her nose and even then she'd do that prettily. " _A fool and a knight? I have never heard of such a thing."_

Robb would kiss her hand then and sweetly say.  _"Sweet lady, all men are fools, and all men are knights, where women are concerned."_

As we neared, I noticed the water grow from clear to green and dark and murky, the stench of rotting corpses from its last sacking still littered the famous pool where six fair maidens were found bathing from the songs. 

My chest tightened at the thought that maybe this was a reflection of Sansa's thoughts when her dreams were tainted once she learned the hard truth of life that life was not a song. 

 _"Most girls are idiots."_ I remembered telling Tywin Lannister when he asked me why I - a girl - favored a dragon rider queen over frippery maidens. 

_**"Aren't most girls more interested in the pretty maidens from the songs? Jonquil, with flowers in her hair?"** _

Flowers in her hair.

Flowers aren't for silly romances and fake knights. 

Flowers were  _death._

Rhaegar Targaryen gave Aunt Lyanna a crown of winter roses and thousands died after.

Loras Tyrell gave Sansa a red rose...

I shook my head before completing that thought.

As the stench of decay and filth became stronger, the almost ruin that was the pink walls of Maidenpool's famous harbour came clearer, I remembered that I received no gift from any knight or prince but I did receive other gifts - one from a bastard, one from an orphan runaway, and three from a prisoner. 

Jon Snow gave me Needle.

Hot Pie gave me bread in the shape of a wolf.

And lastly, Jaqen H'gar gave me three names to offer to the Many-Faced-God. 

_I will give him seventeen more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some italicized or bold quotes from Arya's memory are direct ones from the series/books.


	4. Bastard

_The moon was fat and bright, high up in the night sky._

_The sound of rustling grass and leaves and streaming water fills the air._

_I let out a howl, long and deep and loud just as thick clouds rolled over the moon like a black curtain drawn._

_The sound of more rustling and paws and low grumbles came as I expected._

_Glowing pairs of yellow, green, white and red shone in between the woods, followed by the sight of red furs, grey, black, brown as moonlight bathed the forest once more._

_I howled again._

_And thirty answered back._

* * *

**Morya Rivers** _  
_

_"Hate's as good a thing as any to keep a person going. Better than most."_

_-_ **The Hound**  
  
 "Stick 'em with the pointy end."

_- **Jon Snow**_

 

The Face: Large hazel eyes, delicate nose, full lips, long wavy dark hair

The Identity: Morya Rivers, a serving girl

The Misson: Kill Walder, Lothar, and Black Walder Frey

_**. . .** _

 

 

 

"Come along Morya. I'll show you to your quarters."

"Yes, m'lady."

Morya followed her new mistress, a comely woman with raven hair streaked with silver, and had startling hazel eyes, almost green in some light. Lady Alyssa Frey, Lord Walder's fourth wife with whom she has four children with. Three sons, and a daughter that was my namesake. Of the sons, one was the most likely heir to the twins - Lothar Frey.  

Lady Alyssa, was also Morya's aunt. Morya was a Blackwood. A bastard, but a Blackwood bastard that shared the same ancient blood that ran through Lady Alyssa Blackwood's veins. 

Morya Rivers was to be the new handmaiden to the tenth and latest wife of Walder Frey. Being she was from Raventree, it was Lady Alyssa that saw to her training before she served the new Lady Frey. 

Once they were near the tiny servant's quarters near the kitchen, Lady Alyssa ordered the cooks to start on culling the lambs and the chickens to get a start on the meat pies they were to serve tonight. 

As the sound of beating and squawking and squealing echoed against the large busy kitchen, Morya was already ushered inside her new quarters with the door shut tight, leaving her along with her lady.

Lady Alyssa sat down on the tiny cot and patted the space beside her to which Morya immediately went to with her head bowed low. 

A finger lifter her chin and she was gazing into eyes that were the same shade as hers. 

"Do you know your mother child?"

 Morya shook her head. "No, m'lady. Nor my lord father. It was Lord Tytos that raised me."

"How old are you?"

"Ten and seven, m'lady."

She tilted her head. "And yet you are unmarried?"

Morya looked to the side and mumbled. "No one wants a bastard, m'lady."

Lady Alyssa kept her expression neutral and shifted the conversation. "You are to be a handmaiden, Morya. Do you know what that entails?"

Morya nodded. "Yes, m'lady. I am to do as my mistress bids and see to her every need. Lady Blackwood has instructed me."

She hummed in approval. "Can you do more than helping brush, bathe, clothe your lady and sewing?"

"While I can do all that you have mentioned, m'lady. I am ashamed to admit I am not one for needlework."

She studied Morya before asking. "We shall teach you then. Do you know how to cook, Morya?"

Morya nodded fervently. "They say I cook well, my lady. They say it is what I do best."

She gave a small smile, just a twitch of her lips. "We shall see then. How about story telling, Morya? For the Lord Frey gets bored so easily. Mayhaps you can teach your mistress a few tales and songs."

Morya wavered. "I know little, m'lady."

"Not the matter. Shame it is though for your eyes, so like mine, were made to tell stories. It is what Lord Frey liked about me most, well, second to my bloodline. I shall have to help you learn some then," she decided.

"My-my lady, I am not worthy of your time," Morya said meekly.

Lady Alyssa laughed elegantly. "I  _must._ It will not do." She looked away and silence permeated the air for a moment before she looked back at Morya.

"Morya, do you know of the story about the 'Rat Cook'?" 

Morya grew nervous and fidgeted, afraid of disappointing the kind Lady Alyssa more. "N-no m'lady."

"Be at ease. There was a simple cook from the Night's Watch. The Nightfort to be exact. He had an unknown grudge against an Andal King that visited. When supper came, the King was served a pie made of bacon with onions and others that was well received by the King that he asked for a second piece," she paused as a loud sound of wailing and cursing followed by wet slashing and pounding came from the other side of the door. "It was after the King devoured the second piece when the cook revealed what made the pie so good. Do you know what it was?"

Morya shook her head, as another sound of agonized bleeting and squealing, followed by more slashing and beating came from outside her room. 

Lady Alyssa looked at her squarely then, the light of the candle making her hazel eyes almost golden. "It was the flesh of the king's son that was added to the pie."

Morya looked up at her horrified and green, wanting to retch and she did once the Lady Alyssa moved a chamber pot beside her. 

As her hair was pulled back and her back was rubbed, Lady Alyssa continued. "Oh but he was not left unpunished. The gods were angered, turning the cook into a massive rat that was doomed to be unable to eat anything but his own young. Do you know why the gods were angered, Morya?"

Morya wiped her mouth and looked up weakly at her mistress. "Because of murder?"

Lady Alyssa shook her head slowly, a sardonic smile growing on her hardened face. "No, my dear. It was because after the King and his retinue were given bread and salt, the cook  _slayed_ a guest beneath their roof. Now can you tell me what the cook violated?"

Morya sat up straight then and a look passed between the two women. "Guest right."

 

Lady Alyssa smiled then and offered Morya water. 

Morya drank slowly and gratefully, her eyes never leaving her mistress' who stood up."Enough stories. I apologize for bringing that story up. It is inappropriate but it was the one that came to mind readily since my Lord husband has requested meat pies for supper tonight." She shrugged and chuckled darkly. "You'd think my Lord Husband has turned into a rat now after what he did for the poor Starks and their men. But then, he already looks like an old rat even before," she shook her head as she chuckled again. "Him,  _Black Walder,_ and my wretched dim son, Lothar. Oh that I regret the day he slid from my womb and into the world..."

"My-my lady - "

She looked at Morya and smiled, rolling her eyes. "Do not fret, my dear. Everyone loathes Lothar the most among his many brothers. 

"But my lady..."

She tilted her head. "Yes, Morya?"

"Lord Lothar - 

Lady Alyssa wrinkled her nose. "-is _my_ son. Yes. Yet, my Lord husband has dozens more sons. While I love him the way only a mother could. I  _know_ that my wretched boy is not fit to be the heir to the Twins." She looked at me then - hard and determined. "Do you understand?"

She _knew._

"Anyway, Morya, with your arrival were provisions from my House too. Might you prove yourself tonight and do the honors of finishing the preparations for the meat pies?" 

Morya stood up and smiled at Lady Alyssa. "I aim to please, Lady Alyssa." 

She crossed the room and stood in front of me with a knowing look. "I know you do, Morya. Now run along. You have a job to do."

. . .

 

 

He realized it now as he clutches at his mouth in horror and disgust after he peeled the crust from the pie and saw a full finger. 

His breaths became ragged as his eyes darted everywhere probably willing himself to wake from a nightmare. 

_No._

_No, no, no,  Rat King._

_This was real._

As he moved about half-paralyzed, half-trembling, I spoke.

"They weren't easy to carve. Especially Black Walder."

That made him look up at me then and my heart drummed against my chest faster, crazed in satisfaction and excitement and just pure hatred when I watched his eyes look more and more horrified when I pulled Morya's face away and revealed myself with a smirk.

_"My name is Arya Stark. I want you to know that. The last thing you're ever going to see is a Stark smiling down at you as you die."_

The ugly old fool tried to escape but it was almost too easy. 

Too easy.

I pulled him back down his shit of a  _throne_ and slit his throat.

Walder Frey's eyes were almost white as they looked up at me in terror, his moth flopping open and close like a gaping fish as blood spurted from his throat while I held him by his chin. 

I looked away and into the hallway where he probably watched as his men butchered my brother's men, my good-sister and her babe in her womb - where he saw Roose Bolton stab my brother's heart, where Black Walder slit my mother's throat, the sound of gurgling, gasping, and sputtering filling the air as the blood drains from him and keeps mine own up. 

I couldn't help the corners of my mouth from turning up as I heard his pathetic life leech away from his decrepit body. 

I looked back down at him with that same smile and almost wanted to ask.  _Was this how you felt when you watched your floor painted red with my family's blood?_

_Was this how you smiled when you thought you destroyed the Stark as well as the Tully name?_

_Was it worth it, my lord?_

_Was it worth allying with cunts like Boltons and Lannisters?_

_Oh it probably was!_

_All your old disgusting life, you've hated the Starks. But not as much as you hated the Tullys._

_And in one night, you killed both._

_As was already expected from filths like you._

_Do you know what have always called you, my lord?_

_"The Late Lord Frey."_

_And so shall you be._

I grinned. As his eyes started to lose their whites and his wrinkly hands feebly tried to reach up. 

_Was the pie good my lord?_

_Was it the best meat pie you've ever tasted?_

_It must've been because you wanted a third slice._

_I wonder..._

_Was it Black Walder or Lothar that tasted better?_

_Well?_

_It's not only a Stark who is looking down at you but also a Tully._

_Well?_

When he jerked for the last time, I looked down at his eyes forever frozen up in terror. 

My mouth curled up.

A laugh escaped.

And another.

And another.

The empty hallway suddenly filled with loud, unrestrained laughter.

But my laughter died when I saw it.

There at the end of the hallway was a body - no - my eyes grew horrified - a corpse.

A corpse wearing brown bloodied leather armor -  _Northern armor -_ but it wasn't a body that wore it. No.  _Bones._ Bones held by cords and iron strings and ropes... and its skull... wasn't human. It was a wolf's. 

The hallway was filled with sound once more, only this time it wasn't laughter.

 

. . .

 

 

I opened my eyes and found myself bolting upright, my hand grasping for my sword when I realized I had woken up in an unfamiliar room.

_Where was my sword?_

"Arya, Arya - calm down, niece."

My head swiveled to the direction of the familiar voice. 

My chest caught when I saw the blue eyes and auburn hair of my uncle, disheveled as he was and clearly needed to gain back weight, but he was family. 

He smiled my mother's smile and opened his arms to me that I quickly launched myself at him. "Uncle Edmure!"

"Shh, shh, it's okay niece. It's okay. You're okay now," he rubbed my back as I sobbed against him. 

"You gave us quite a scare, young lady," he soothed. 

I leant back and wiped at my eyes hastily with my sleeves. "They deserved to die."

Uncle Edmure smirked but the worry never left his eyes. "That's the truest truth in the world, niece. However brutal way you ended them but that wasn't what I was talking about."

"He's talking about your breakdown, she-wolf."

I turned around and saw Lord Tytos Blackwood and Lady Alyssa looking at me grimly. 

I scrunched my nose. "Breakdown?"

They both shared a look and then Uncle Edmure crouched down in front of me. "What was the last thing you remember?"

I thought back. "Walder Frey dying. The hallway..."

I sucked in a breath then.

"R-Robb," I muttered.

Uncle Edmure's brow crinkled. "Your brother?"

I grabbed at the sheets below my hand. "I saw it. I saw Robb's bones - the armor - Grey Wind's skull tied - " I stopped when I saw the truth and sympathy staring back at me. They didn't need to shake their heads to confirm it. 

"It wasn't there, was it?"

Uncle Edmure brushed some hair away from my face. "No, Arya."

I wanted to grab him by the arms and shake him but my hands went to my hair instead. "W-where am I? How did you find me? What scare? How long was I asleep?"

Hands pulled at my own and steadied them against my lap, while another lifted my chin up. "Take a deep breath."

I did.

"That's it. One more. There's a girl. Again. There, there," Lady Alyssa said soothingly.

I closed my eyes and kept taking deep breaths until I calmed. When I felt better I took the mug of wine they offered and downed it. 

"I found you under the table, your eyes were wide and scared as you clutched at your hair, repeating over and over and over -  _How many? How many? How many? Is there gold in the village? How many?"_ Lady Alyssa said gently. 

I froze remembering I did the same when I first killed a  _man_ not a boy, but a man and not by accident but deliberately. I kept repeating Raff the Sweetling's words back at him, thinking nothing was easier as I stabbed him over and over. Nothing was easier than killing. The Hound said, and it was. The Hound pulled me up then and we went our way, my list a name short.

When I said nothing, not even bothering to explain, Lady Alyssa spoke again. "I made you drink essence of nightshade after I pulled you away from there, cloaked and hooded you, and then smuggled you with my cousin's men. And now we're here, in his castle."

I looked at Lord Tytos then who bowed at me. "Welcome back to Raventree, Lady Stark." At that I started to remember the woolen tapestries and the oak beams that decorated the castle. 

I looked at Lady Alyssa then. "You - You knew all along about our plan, didn't you?"

She smiled then. "Of course. The Blackwoods are loyal to the King in the North and the Trident. We are kin, my lady, from the Stark-Blackwood line. And we Blackwoods are loyal to the Tullys. We are the last of the Houses who have yet to yield to the crown."

"The last to hold your brother's sovereign, my lady. Until we've submitted, your brother's reign isn't over.  _Princess_ Arya Stark," Lord Tytos added or rather reminded me.

I smiled. "You already told me that." Following Jalabhar Xho's advice, I knew I couldn't just barge in The Twins nor Riverrun, not when there were Lannister men that held them, so I went to Raventree to see if the Blackwoods, were in fact, loyal. 

It took several faces and even more skins, but I was able to get in. When I arrived though, before I sought the Lord, I was drawn to the largest Heart Tree I've ever seen. The massive weirwood was dead but on its branches were hundreds of ravens staying true to their sigil. 

I couldn't help but touch the carved weeping face when suddenly I was transported to a dark cave where I saw my brother Bran standing over me. 

Bran was a greenseer. 

He showed me everything that was happening. Stannis Baratheon has just been defeated by the Boltons. Rickon was still at Last Hearth. Sansa and Theon has just escaped from Winterfell and were running towards the Wall. Jon has just left completely shook from what he experienced at Hardhome and was nearing Eastwatch. 

The White Walkers were real. I almost laughed again. Of course they were. Dragons were real. Warging was real. Greenseeing was real. Face changing was real. 

Magic was real.

"Are you still with us, niece?" I felt my uncle shake me slightly. I blinked and nodded. 

"Don't scare us like that again! I thought you were going to break down again. What happened to you niece? I heard about your...abilities."

I swallowed and felt the exhaustion. 

"Save that for later, Lord Edmure. The child needs rest," Lord Tytos crossed his arms.

"I'm not tired. I  _need_ to go," I made to stand up but three pairs of hands brought me back even as I glared at them. 

"We  _know._ But you can't. Not yet," Lord Tytos shook his head.

"Why in seven hells not?" I shot back.

"Arya!" Uncle Edmure reprimanded.

"Uncle?" I answered back. 

"Just sit down and keep still for a moment, she-wolf. And listen to our plan," Lord Tytos looked at me.

I sighed and nodded. "Fine."

"The Riverlands is in chaos. The remaining Freys are fighting over who should be the head. No one's even worried that your uncle here is missing. Stupid shites," he chuckled. "And dear girl, while I think it was very much justified what you did to Walder Frey and his two sons, what in the old gods were you thinking? Carving up the sons and feeding them to the father?" He said half-impressed, half-disgusted.

Uncle Edmure and I snorted a laugh but stopped when Lord Tytos gave us a look. 

I sighed and pointed at Lady Alyssa. "Don't look at me. She put the idea in my head when she told me about the Rat Cook! She even told me to prepare the pies!"

While Lady Alyssa looked amused, she shook her head. "I meant to kill them with pies, yes. But put _poison_ in the pie not  _them_. I didn't think you'd take the story literally."

Uncle Edmure looked at me incredulously then. "Thank you, niece."

I grinned at him.

We heard a long sigh as Lord Tytos shook his head at us. "Anyway, it's not safe here. Arya, your uncle and I agreed that we will be sending you to one of your father's bannermen."

I was about to protest when he cut me off. "No. Edmure being found here eventually by the Lannisters would almost be expected. He, as well as a lot of prisoners escaped the Twins in the midst of the chaos you created and it would make sense that the last Tully would go to us as we said we're the last riverland keep to yield. But if you think there is no place you can go to in the North, we'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe here."

Then I remembered what Bran told me.

"I know where to go," I looked at them.

They watched me and waited expectantly.

"Greywater Watch."

* * *

 

 

**Jyanna Snow**

_"You must be sw_ _ift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords." - **Syrio Forel**_

 

The Face: Sharp face, forest green eyes slanted like a cat's, three crossed scars on her face, and short brown hair

The Identity: Jyanna Snow. Howland Reed's bastard niece.

The mission: Become the Queen in the North's sworn shield

. . .

 

Jyanna was following behind her captain, Lady Brienne of Tarth while they walked behind their Queen, Sansa Stark who was making her way towards the Godswood for her morning prayers.

Once they were near enough, the Queen looked at my captain and proceeded the rest of the way on her own.

Jyanna made to follow when Lady Brienne stopped me.

Jyanna looked up at the hulking woman in confusion. 

Lady Brienne gave a smirk. "Leave her grace be. She wishes not to be disturbed when she prays."

"Is it safe, my lady?"

"I'll let you peek, just this once and see that she is not alone."

Curious, Jyanna walked very quietly and saw that indeed, the Queen wasn't alone while she kneeled before the Heart Tree. The Hand of Queen was there sitting on the large root and polishing his sword, his eyes on her.

Jyanna went back and saw Brienne with her brow raised at her. 

"The Lord Hand is there," Jyanna blurted out.

Brienne nodded. "As he is every day before dawn."

Jyanna looks at her confused. "But...it's midday..."

Brienne chuckled. "So it is. Midday is the Queen's time."

Jyanna's nose wrinkled. "Oh."

"You don't approve?"

Lady Brienne's charge shrugged. "Weren't...they raised as siblings?"

The other woman sighed. "They were but... they aren't siblings. And things...happen."

Silence.

"Do you follow the Old Gods, Jyanna?"

Jyanna looked far away and nodded. 

"I had time to talk with your uncle, Lord Reed. He told me you were a girl of...many talents."

Jyanna gaped at the tall woman then. 

"Your secret is safe with me. If Jon Snow was resurrected, and I saw a shadow kill Renly Baratheon, I suppose a warg could exist," Brienne smirked.

Jyanna said nothing. 

"Jyanna, if you are indeed a warg, I need you to spy for our Queen - on one man in particular," the captain looked at her charge seriously then.

Jyanna looked at her for a score before nodding finally. "Who?"

"Petyr Baelish."

. . .

Jyanna didn't know what to think when her Queen lead her and Brienne towards the crypts and then bid Lady Brienne to stand guard by the entrance while her she asked to come the rest of the way.

With a nod, she followed Queen Sansa down as she went further and further inside. Down they went, along the long winding stone steps, past the granite pillars, twin by twin, tomb by tomb as they went further and futher.

The air was thin and cold - the kind of cold that cling to the body slowly, creeping outwards and in. The only sound was the flickering of the torch light, their quiet footsteps, and Jyanna's accelerating breathing in contrast to the Queen's steady one. 

Queen Sansa paused.

Jyanna stopped too. 

Looking back from her shoulder, the queen asked quietly. "Are you okay, Lady Jyanna?"

Jyanna straightened up and nodded once. "Just Jyanna, your grace. And I am well, just unaccustomed to being underground."

The Queen nodded and started walking again. "Jyanna then. Jyanna, if the air feels to thin or too cold, you can always stop and wait. It took me some time too to get used to this."

"You must have come down here often then, your grace," Jyanna decided to answer. 

"Every three days, Jyanna, since coming back," the queen said slowly.

"Why?" Jyanna could not help asking. "Forgive me."

Queen Sansa hummed. "Hm. It's alright. It is rather strange to come down to the crypts that often."

"Then why do you?"

The queen walked a few paces before answering calmly. "What do you know about this crypt, Jyanna?"

Jyanna looked back and thought for a moment as they continued walking. "That it is bigger than Winterfell itself... that the wildling, Bael the Bard, the one who stole a Stark daughter was actually hiding within the crypts all along... and that a Targaryen Prince, Jacaerys, his dragon mount, laid its eggs within this crypt where the hot springs are felt most near the walls..."

Jyanna and the Queen were now greeted by the view of the stone statues signaling the start of the royal tombs. 

"Those are the popular tales and songs," the Queen allowed a laugh. Just one short chuckle as she nodded at Jyanna. "What else do you know?"

Jyanna pointed at the statues of the former Lords of Winterfell and Kings of the North. "This crypt is where all the Kings of Winter, as well as the Lord of Winterfell that came after King Torrhen Stark are buried - a statue of their likeness built with broadswords on their laps, and direwolves by their feet."

The Queen stopped then when we reached the statue of a woman. 

The _only_ woman honored a place here.

Lyanna Stark.

The Queen handed Jyanna her lantern while she reached into her basket to retrieve a winter rose that she placed on the statue's palm. "Now that - that we can easily confirm as fact, Jyanna. Though there seems to be an exception, don't you think?"

"Lyanna Stark," Jyanna whispered.

The Queen nodded without looking at her. "Yes. My father loved his sister so much that when he brought her bones back home, my aunt Lyanna was honored here."

"With the father and brother who died for her," Jyanna couldn't help but comment. 

Queen Sansa looked at her then. "You have strong opinions about that, I gather."

Jyanna lowered her eyes. "Forgive me, my queen. That was rude."

The Queen merely blinked before continuing her task of placing winter roses and lighting candles for Lyanna Stark, Lord Rickard Stark, and Lord Brandon Stark until she reached the newer statues. 

Lord Eddard Stark. "Next you'll tell me, now I am laying an offering for her brother who died with her secret intact and left the world stripped of honor." 

King Robb Stark. "Now what next? I lay an offering, for the brother who waged a war too but abandoned her sisters for his bannermen, yet lost them anyway when he chose a woman that wasn't his to choose."

Prince Rickon Stark. "Now you'll say I lay an offering to the brother I sacrificed."

"My Queen I - "

The Queen stopped her with a long sigh and shook her head. "Do not stress, Jyanna. I know what the people say when they think I cannot hear or see. It is alright. There are always two sides to everything. And somewhere in the middle, is the black and white truth untouched by biases. But in the end, even that isn't what matters. What matters is the outcome - the consequences. Who wins, who loses - it's what is done after by both sides that matters in the end."

The Queen then reaches to stroke the cold hard cheek of Rickon Stark. "The reason why I come down here often, Jyanna, is because sometimes, I need to be reminded."

"Reminded of what, my queen?"

_"Everything."_

Silence as the queen then moved her hand to touch the snout of her brother's direwolf at his feet.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, Jyanna. A Stark built Winterfell. Stark Kings and Lords were raised within its walls to rule and to protect the North be it as a King of Winter, or its warden. And beneath the castle is where each Lord Stark that pass will lay to rest..." the Queen paused and stood up but still had her back to Jyanna.

"I come here to be reminded that for centuries, a Stark has always held the North - has grown in the North, has died defending the North. And to be reminded that the North remembers all that too despite all that has happened that kept most to deny this fact. I come here because this is how _I_ remember. I come here to be reminded _I_ am a Stark of Winterfell. That _I_ am  _still_ a Stark of Winterfell - that I am _not_ among the ones that lie here yet."

The Queen looks at Jyanna then from her shoulder, her blue eyes like frozen steel. "I come here to remember everything. All the lessons, all the mistakes, all the reasons to carry on. So that when I stand before my people, that as easily as I can make them remember my House's words, I can as easily make theirs disappear."

Jyanna dropped to her knees then and bowed low, her hand on her heart. "My Queen - your grace I - "

The Queen chuckled then.

Jyanna looked up at her but Queen Sansa had a big grin on her face. 

Queen Sansa crouched to be on Jyanna's level and smiled softly. "I  _told_ you one day you'd bow to me and call me 'your grace' didn't I?"

I gasped.

I shook my head. No.  _Jyanna_ gasped.

But before I - Jyanna could speak or move, Sansa had already wrapped her arms around me. 

"Welcome home, little sister. It's good to see you again Arya."

One.

Then Two.

Then Three.

Three fat tears leaked from my eyes before I moved to cling to my older sister tightly, wetting her neck and shoulder where she cradled my head with one hand, as her other stroked my back as I sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see her interact more with Sansa and finally, Jon too next chapter. I promise to finish this by Friday, and get the first (maybe two) chapters of the Sansa POV as the next part of the series next week.


	5. The Queensguard

**The Queensguard**

**"** _Safety? Where the FUCK'S that? Her aunt in the Eyrie's dead! Her mother's dead! Her father's dead! Her brother's dead! Winterfell is a pile of rubble! There's no "safety," you dumb bitch. You don't know that by now, you're the wrong one to watch over her." - **Sandor Clegane**_

. . .

 

_Jyanna, now fully a member of the Queensguard, is currently at the crypts with the Queen where they have taken to coming before dawn when they know the people, especially the Lord Hand and a certain mockingbird would not be expecting the Queen, even moreso, Jyanna._

_Ever since the day the Queen found out about Jyanna's secret, they go back, just the two of them each morning so Jyanna can teach the Queen the basics of how to defend herself._

_It is only there in the crypts where Jyanna can be her true self._

. . .

 

After a round of light sparring, I called for a break and we both sat down on the cool floor beside the statues of our brothers and father. 

I looked over at Sansa and couldn't help but smirk at the sight of her sweaty, dirty, and in _breeches._

She looked at me then and rolled her eyes. "Please. I can't wait until the day of your reveal. Once in a while, I shall have you in skirts and stockings, and I shall look at you the same."

"I can't wait," I said sarcastically.

They both shared a laugh then.

It was certainly a blessing to have moments like this - to be myself again, a Stark, a sister, in my home. Who would've thought that it would be with Sansa of all people? 

Sansa and I have always been oil and water. 

I would never admit it but I was always jealous of her. She had always been "the pretty one" while I was "Arya horseface." And I couldn't count how many times I cried when she and her friends would laugh and mock at me that maybe I was better off as a bastard than be the disappointment.  

But all that felt like a lifetime ago with so many years and tears and fears between us.  

That night at the crypt when she called me out, we spent it sobbing as we clung to each other, apologizing and crying as we held on tighter and tighter. After a hundred apologies and a hundred forgiveness, we found ourselves laughing and smiling as we hugged fiercely - just as we could've been -  _should've_ been the moment we were old enough to understand we were _sisters._

Then Sansa bent and adjusted her too large tunic - stolen from Jon, most likely - I swallowed uncomfortably, still uneasy about the - the clear _attraction_ that was between my sister and my brother- _cousin._ And the whole irony of our sibling reunion fraying a bit with  _this._ It's not that I was all that against it but it's just...I don't understand and this was something I didn't want to address lest I do something stupid and I couldn't reveal myself yet. Something that would definitely happen if I opened the door to all my feelings about this. Hells, the two idiots were going to great lengths to ignore it. I won't deal with it until I'd have to. There were many other things to occupy the mind with. _Seventeen names and all._ So, no. If they're denying it, I will too. 

All that was gone fast as I got distracted once more with another issue when I saw a sleeve hung loose, dropping low to reveal a shoulder where I saw the scars.

That night at the crypt, we held each other like we never held each other before, never letting go as we felt each other's scars beneath our palms and bared even more with the ones you couldn't touch. My fists clenched and unclenched as she told me of her time in King's Landing - at the Eyrie and her time with the cunt husband of his Ramsay fucking Bolton. And I in turn watched as different emotions crossed her eyes when I recalled my own journey. More tears followed, more apologies, more forgiveness, and even more resolve to stand by each other and right all the wrongs that were done to us and our family as we laid each and every scar, tangible and intangible between us - tears and words and love served as the steel that reforged our bond. We were home now and we were damn well keeping it. Damn everyone and anything who dare threatens to take it. 

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. 

Now there were  _three._

Still, the sight of Sansa's scars... were hard to take. My own I received as expected from fighting. Hers she bore from being obedient. On my way to Winterfell, of course I heard the rumors of what he Bolton monster did to her. That on top of the beatings I learned she took when she was in the Red Shithole every time Robb won a battle. 

 _Robb._ I thought bitterly again. As images of Sansa submitting to the right prick of a King, enduring each blow patiently believing that each strike meant she was closer to being rescued and avenged. 

I stopped before my mind darkened over thoughts of our honorable brother just as Sansa's sleeved pooled lower, showing the  _carvings._

I couldn't help but choke out, earning the snap of her eyes at me - wide in alarm and then filled with realization as she quickly looked away and yanked her sleeve back up.

"S-Sansa - "

She looked at me then sadly and shook her head. "It's done, Arya."

I stood in front of her then and bore my eyes at her, my hands clenching at my sides. "No one will touch you again."

She gave me a smile that was so like our mother's - no - father's - no, Sansa's. Like the Sansa of our childhood, all starry eyed and ever ready with sweet pretty smiles. "Of course not. I have you now, don't I?"

I scoffed and actually stomped my foot. "Don't patronize me. I'm completely serious."

She sighed then and let her smile fade a little. "I know you are. It's just... No one can truly protect anyone. People can try but in the end, you have to learn to save yourself," she looked up at me then. "Wouldn't you agree?"

I plopped back down the floor and leant on my palms, stretching my legs in front of me. "Still... I should never have left you in King's Landing."

I felt her sit next to me then, her hand covering mine. "It's no use to dwell on that, Arya. And what could've changed? Arya... I know you are strong and brave but if you would've been left with me... you'd be killed in no time."

I was about to protest when she squeezed my hand comfortingly and shook her head. "The two of us, were born to fight in different arenas. Yours wasn't court just as mine wasn't the battle field. I could not have survived as you did out in the open, constantly on the run, just as you could not survive as I did with all the lies and machinations of court."

She was right. I couldn't do it. Taking a face was one thing, where it was easy to hide behind a face. But making your real face a mask was another. We both fought with different weapons. I smiled then when I saw her necklace. A long bronze chain that was clasped uniquely on two ends of a black round wood that was made to look like a button, with one end of the chain around one end, while the other looped in between the button holes starting from the base of her neck and down to her waist, ending in one long sharp bronze needle. 

Different needles. We were fighting with different needles. 

Sansa caught her stare and followed her gaze. She shrugged and smiled. "You have your own Needle, it was only fair I had mine."

I blinked at her. "You  _knew_ about Needle?" But of course she would!  _Jon._

Sansa chuckled as she arched a brow. "Before you plan on telling Jon off, I'll have you know, he wasn't the one who told me about it."

"How?"

She looked away and started rebraiding her hair. "It was Lady Brienne who told me. She met your friend at the Crossroads Inn - Hot Pie, I think she mentioned. It was at that same day that she found me and Lord Baelish when we stopped there to rest." She shook her head. "Anyway, Brienne said that before she left, your friend approached her and gave her bread shaped like a perfect wolf and told her the last he's seen of you, you were on your way to be ransomed to Riverrun - to Robb. But by then the...Red Wedding, as it was called," she said with distaste in her voice, "had already taken place. And seeing as I was with the acting Lord of the Vale, deduced that you were probably either dead or you were on your way to the Wall to Jon. So she followed me to Winterfell instead, seeing that you were safer than I was if you were with Jon by some miracle. Your friend then told Brienne, that for Arya to trust you, she should ask to see  _Needle -_ the sword Jon gave you. Only those close to you would know that. Would that have worked?"

I stared at her as I took in her words, blinking when I realized she was asking me a question in the end. Still, Hot Pie was alive! 

"Arya?"

I looked at her then and nodded. "It would've given her a few moments just enough to explain to me. But the real reason I didn't follow Brienne when she found me with the Hound was because we both saw Lannister golden lion on her sword."

She sighed through her nose and nodded back. "I didn't believe her too when she found me first. I  _did_ see her at Joffrey's wedding and she never said anything about her deal with mother then. Lord Baelish made a compelling argument about kings dying when she was around. At that point, it was only Lord Baelish I trusted," she said, her cheeks flaming with shame. 

 _Lord Baelish._ Oh if only I could just kill the littlefucker off in his sleep with all the things I've found out. He was  _vile_ and disgusting. _The things he did behind closed doors with my sister's and my mother's name on his lips as he did them..._ The bile suddenly went up. 

"Are you alright?" I felt a cool hand on my forehead. 

I leant away and shook my head. "I'm okay. Listen, Sans, we need to kill Littlefucker."

There it was. Her steely mask. 

"Sans, you can't seriously keep that lusty bastard alive! You know what he  _wants!"_ I grabbed at her arms, wanting to shake her but she shook her head. 

I gaped at her. 

"Sans - please don't tell me you - " I stopped, immediately regretting my words when she suddenly stood up and looked at me like she was slapped. 

I could tell she wanted to tell me off - yell at me - but after taking deep breaths, in one quick moment, she was calm and cool, her face deadly neutral. "While I appreciate the concern, Arya I - 

I stood up then. "Spare me your courtesies Sansa! You can't expect me to believe you're actually considering giving him what he wants!"

 

She suffered a sigh before holding up her hands. "Calm down, Arya. I  _know._ But as much as I don't like it, we  _need_ him." 

I was about to protest when she shook her head. "I'm only letting him  _think_ I'm considering it." She raised a brow.  _Do you understand now?_ She seemed to say.

I sat down grumbling. "I still don't like it."

I felt her hand on my shoulder. "This is politics, Arya. We can't just go around killing our enemies left and right just as we please. Revenge can only get you so far."

I looked at her then. "Says the girl who fed her husband to his own dogs."

She smirked. "Ah. But that was after we took his toys and castles - basically _everything_ away from him."

"I killed Meryn Trant you know," I watched her reaction and felt pleased when her eyes sparkled at that. I smirked. 

"And Walder Frey and two of his horrid sons. Have I thanked you yet?" She grinned.

I chuckled. 

"One of them is your betrothed you know - Black Walder," she nudged at my shoulder with hers.

My smile fell into a disgusted snarl. "Well thank the gods. I picked the right prick to cut."

She giggled before turning serious again. "Still, Arya, as much as I want all our enemies' heads on spikes, we have to do things with better planning. This is more than just avenging our name. We own a kingdom now, and there is a greater enemy out there." She squeezed my hand then. "And more importantly, you're not alone anymore and we have our home back. You, me, and Jon - we're home now and we  _know_ better. Everything we need to face, we face together. Sure, we're covered in scars but we are filled with lessons, hard as they were."

I smiled. "Syrio Forel, my dancing teacher told me the same thing once."

"Hm?"

I looked up at Sansa. "A bruise is a lesson...and each lesson makes us better." I hopped down, grabbed her hand, and placed a dagger there.

"Well in the event that you decide to be stupid and marry the cunt Baelish or whoever you think you need to marry - which I seriously don't see happening, not if I, Jon, and all your queensguards can help it - or you do one of your 'political moves'. I'm going to teach you how to slice any fucker from chest to balls when one decides to take his  _'rights'_ from you."

Sansa had the gall to grin then as if I was joking. 

"Well, by all means, teach away," 

* * *

_I howled and my pack answered as I lead them from Riverrun, to the King's Road, and then finally to the Wolfswood._

_There were twenty of us, all wild, and ready, while ten I left at Raventree._

_Passing by the frozen over waters of the Long Lake, I stared at my reflection._

_Yellow eyes and brown fur._

_Wait for me here Nymeria._

_I'll come back for you._

_I said before I left her skin._

I opened my eyes then and looked out the window, seeing the full moon.

"It won't be long now Nymeria."

* * *

I knew that Sansa already warned me that this was one of the things that gave me away but I couldn't help it. 

If I wasn't avoiding Jon, I was giving him the eye when I thought no one was looking. 

Of course I almost cried like a right little girl when I saw him again - almost dropping off my mask and jump in his arms like I used to before but I couldn't.

Too many times I wanted to reveal myself to him.

I saw the way he looked at me like he was seeing a ghost. 

I knew whenever he saw me he'd make an excuse to talk to me and look for any semblance to the little sister that he lost. 

Too many times, so so  _so_ close I wanted to but I couldn't. 

Not if it wasn't time to reveal myself yet. 

And it was too soon.

It's not that I couldn't trust Jon - it's just... he was Jon.

And I may or may not be harboring a grudge against him and his newfound... fondness for Sansa. 

I can't help but feel betrayed. By both of them, yes, but more from Jon than Sansa. But it wasn't their fault, I know. It wasn't their fault that they found each other first. It was actually high time that they do reconcile whatever differences they had when we were younger. 

Only...

Must he moon after her  _all_ the time? Sansa, at least, was being subtle that you hardly saw it. But Jon -  _Jon -_ the whole bloody castle knew he had eyes only for the Queen.

Here we were in the great hall, watching over Sansa as she broke fast with Jon. Jon who kept filling her plate and her cup like a bloody servant. Jon who kept looking and looking and looking at her - finding small ways to  _touch_ her - may it be her hair or her cheek or her hand. Small touches. But they all felt so much more.

And Sansa, despite protesting, was blushing under his attentions. Thank the gods that she wasn't preening or...flirting or anything.

Sansa, I could understand why she'd look at Jon as one of the princes in the songs she loved so much. He was the only decent man who treated her with respect and kindness after being treated nothing more but a broodmare by men. Hells, he was probably the only one she truly trusted after keeping her cards so so so close to her heart. So yes, for a girl who dreamt of knights and princes rescuing the princess and defending her honor, Jon was the only one that fit the bill. 

Jon, I expected better. Granted that they had never been close, they were still raised as siblings! Siblings! I don't care what they say, Jon is  _my_ brother. Nothing would change that.

_But you're not. You're cousins._

And suddenly a floodgate of feelings were threatening to come out about Targaryens and father and mother and all that.

"Cut it out."

I glared at the Hound. 

"I don't care what the bloody fuck the Hand did to you but quit glaring holes into his back. Do you want to die?" He glared back.

"He's right, you know, Jyanna" Brienne grudgingly agreed beside me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I let  _Jyanna_ answer.

* * *

 

"You can come out now, you know."

Silently, I dropped back down the from the branch I was sitting on and came face to face with Jon Snow.

Jon Snow who has been sitting on the large root of the Heart Tree, whet stone on his hand, Longclaw on his knees. 

_He looked so much like father._

"How long have you been there, my lady?" He looked up at me and my throat caught at the sight of those kind grey eyes so like my own staring back at me, so sure that he saw past the green I was wearing to cover it.

"Not that long, my lord."

"Ah, Jyanna, just Jon will do," a corner of his mouth lifted while his eyes crinkled at the sides. 

"Am I bothering you...Jon? Should I leave?"  _Jyanna tilted her head._

Jon shook his head. "The Godswood is for everyone."

I looked away then. Gods this was awkward.

"You're ten and six, my lady?"

 _"Jyanna,_ my  _lord._ And yes, I am sixteen, Jon." I shifted in my feet.

He chuckled. "I apologize, Jyanna. Lord Reed told me you learned the Braavosi sword dance."

I nodded. 

"I admit that I haven't seen such a sword style," he confessed, his eyes warm.

"Maybe I'll get to use them on you in the training ground then," I lifted my chin. 

He smiled his crinkly Jon-smile then. "I look forward to that."

"Be warned though, I am quick like a cat they say." I took out my sword then - longer and a bit thicker than Needle but built with a looped handle, swished then threw it up in the air as I twirled around, catching it over my head by the handle, bringing it down upright over my face before sheating it back up by my belt. "And swift as an eagle."

Jon clapped then and grinned. "That was impressive."

I smirked but couldn't help but falter a bit.

It was moments like this that I wanted to avoid - moments when it would feel like it was before when it was just Jon and I - the misfits of Winterfell. Moments when it was so easy to give in.

Jon changed. For sure. You don't just get murdered and then be resurrected and come back still the same. 

But in essence, where it matters the most...

Jon was still  _Jon._

Jon who never thought to be more than who he was - no matter how much he denied that he shared Sansa's dreams of castles and kingdoms too especially when he was younger, opting to settle for whatever he could do and was given. 

"Jyanna?"

"Jyanna?

_"Lady Jyanna?"_

I blinked and looked at him, cursing myself for forgetting my cover. 

His eyes looked at me with a look I was all to familiar with. 

"Are you alright?" His voice thick with our Northern tongue had roughened and deepened over the years but the sincerity and the concern was still all Jon. Yes he was the same but he was different too.

I raised a brow at him and crossed my arms. "Of course I am, Lord Snow." I sniffed the air.

He chuckled. 

I looked at him and he raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to insult you, _Lady S_ now. It's just...you spaced out a little there Jyanna."

That's right. I was Jyanna Snow. I was getting too careless. He's going to find out.

_Would it really be so bad?_

"Jon - "

His eyes widened then and it must've shown on my face again. "What is it Jyanna?"

It took a while and I almost gave in but I remembered that I couldn't. My chest tightened. Not today.

"I am to leave by first light with my uncle," I said instead.

He looked disappointed but he didn't comment on that. "You're both going to the Vale then?"

I nodded. "It won't take long. I'll be back before you know it along with the Lord Declarants' reply." Truth was, only Lord Howland was going to the Vale with a few of his crannogmen who would then meet with Lord Tytos Blackwood... with Uncle Edmure. _I'll_ be back by nightfall. Lord Howland maybe three days with the reply.

"Sure you can handle this? I could spare you some of my men - Freefolk if you think that's better."

I shook my head. "No. Lord Reed and I are perfectly capable."

I could tell he wanted to argue but then decided against it. "Okay. May the old gods be with you then. And when you come back, you can show me your Braavosi dance."

I felt my heart catch then but before he could see it, I turned around quickly and started walking. "Best practice then Lord Hand. I don't hold back."

"I wouldn't expect you too, Lady Jyanna," He stood up and grinned.

I gave him a swift nod but he called out again.

I stopped and looked at him from my shoulder. "Yes?"

He gave me a torn look before he shook his head, half-smiling at me. "Nothing. It's just..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You remind me of someone. Someone I care about a lot."

I almost choked out but forced myself to keep still and cool. "I do?"

He nodded sadly, looking all broody again. "She was strong, brave, spirited, stubborn as hell," He laughed but it came out almost longingly. "She was a skinny thing, wanting to prove herself with swords and bows and wrestling. But despite acting so tough, she could be kind and sweet too in her own special way."

I had to look away then before I do something stupid like cry. "Sounds special," I managed.

"Very," he smiled again.

"You said... _was_..." And that hurt too. Did you think I died already Jon?

He looked pained then. "That was wrong of me. But sometimes... hope is a fucking bastard."

I rolled my eyes at him then and threw a snowball at him straight to his chin.

"Oy!"

 _"We're_ fucking bastards, you bastard. You say that as a bad thing."

He laughed out loud then. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"There are worse things than bastards, you know," I raised my brows at him.

"I know nothing, apparently," he said bitterly. 

I couldn't help but laugh then and he joined me. 

Much as I was tempted to tell him again, I reminded myself, I can't. 

I walked up over to him then and looked him squarely in the eye without blinking. "Listen Jon, the reason I was up there was because it's the best place I could go undisturbed when I...spy on Littledick." 

He chortled at that but I rolled my eyes. "But it's true you know - 

He gaped at me then clearly wanting to say more or laugh but I shushed him. "He's planning something for our Queen's name day tomorrow. Maybe even tonight. I saw one of his spies slip him a parcel. There's a letter. I couldn't read it but whatever it was, made him very fucking happy. And he muttered something about how he can't wait to show it."

Jon grew serious then. 

"I need to go now. Take care of our Queen," I eyed him. "I'm sure she's even more special than your missing friend."

The tips of his ears were red as he looked away. "They are both special in different ways, but yes... the Queen is - 

There it was. I sighed. "Special, and the most important one," I supplied for him in surrender, leaving without looking at his reaction.

From his words I knew then that I would always be Jon's little sister.

While Sansa would be his everything else if she wasn't already.

Strangely enough, I don't feel betrayed by them anymore.

Everyone deserves happiness.

A face of a black haired, blue-eyed boy with a bull helm came to mind.

* * *

_I sighed and went the furthest away from my sister's chambers once I heard it bolted from the inside._

_Sansa was having another nightmare - the first in almost a sennight that she's had them, according to Brienne. But the first that I've witnessed when I was the first who rushed in her chambers when I heard her screams._

_I wanted to hold her but I couldn't drop my mask - not when all her sword shields came in and of course, Jon who barged in and completely ignored us as he brought his arms around Sansa._

_From the looks of it, this wasn't the first time as I watched him expertly calm Sansa down._

_It was only when Brienne tugged at me that I realized that one by one, everyone else filled out of the room and back down the end of the hallway to give them privacy - the sound of sobbing and hushing and soft voices fading in the distance._

_I looked at all of them and no one seemed to address the wooly mammoth in the room._

_The Hound clearly looked like he ate something funny and was looking grumpier than normal. Ser Galbert simply looked concerned. Ser Larence fidgeted. Lady Alysanne just looked annoyed. So I looked to the captain and was fairly surprised to see the flush in her cheeks._

_"Do we leave them like that?" I blurted out._

_They all looked to Brienne who sighed. "He's the only one who could, Lady Jyanna. Anyway he is her family."_

_"Family," The Hound spat. Finally I almost yelled._

_Brienne wrinkled her nose while giving Sandor a look. Sandor just rolled his eyes. "Still, I would not begrudge my queen her every comfort," Brienne added._

_Fine, I thought but didn't voice out. Maybe I'd have to convince Sansa that I'd take to sleeping in her chambers with her as Arya. I haven't touched my room or any other of my siblings' former rooms anyway. I wasn't ready yet. That way we'd help each other from our nightmares and keep some distance between Jon and her._

_It's not because of jealousy or propriety - fuck propriety. It's so they wouldn't be too codependent on each other and okay for them not to do something stupid like fuck when they're clearly not ready._

_I didn't realize that I had followed my comrades to one of the rooms and they were all looking at me now._

_"Alright. Come on out, she-wolf," The Hound raised a brow at me._

_I wrinkled my brow and looked at my captain instead._

_But Lady Brienne was examining me as well._

_I looked around and saw the rest of the  Queensguards, Ser Larence Snow, Ser Galbart Glover, and Lady Alysanne Mormont eyeing me curiously._

_For a moment no one said anything but they were all looking at me._

_Cornered and watched - I drew my sword._

_Everyone but Sandor raised their hands up in surrender while the Hound kept his arms crossed against his chest._

_"What's going on?" I demanded._

_"We all know you're not Jyanna Snow, she-wolf. Take off your mask," The Hound bellowed._

_I said nothing._

_"My lady. It's okay, we won't tell your secret," Brienne approached calmly._

_"I don't know what you're talking about." I stood my ground and looked for a way to escape. But skilled as I was, these were seasoned fighters._

_"You're a warg," Lady Alysanne pointed out._

_"Crannogmen are known for that. Is that it?"_

_"I am a Snow, my lady. And you are definitely not one," it was Ser Larence this time._

_Ser Galbert, the eldest, approached last. "The North Remembers, Lady Stark."_

_I started walking backwards, never once blinking - holding my sword up._

_The Hound then dropped his arms and crouched in front of me. "Cut the act. The little bird is in danger."_

_I tucked my sword back, crossed my arms but kept Jyanna's face._

_"Then what kind of shite guards are we to allow that?" I arched a brow. "Why are you wasting your time with whoever the fuck I am when can plan on how we serve my sister, Littlecunt's head on a silver platter?"_

_The Hound couldn't help but snort and guffaw._

* * *

 

 My eyes bulged and I nearly dropped my mask and barged in Jon's chambers when I heard the latest chaos Littlefinger inflicted on Jon and Sansa. Littlefinger was definitely acting on more than ambition but also from jealousy. 

Earlier, Sansa barged in Jon's room flustered and upset and not at all the calm and collected Queen I've been guarding for nearly a fortnight. 

There was no mice to warg in to spy on them but my ears worked just fine as I stayed in the shadows near Jon's door. Lady Brienne and the Hound were just down on the only staircase that lead to this floor. 

As I listened to them argue, I realized now what Petyr Baelish was giddy at showing. 

_Robb's will._

As if I didn't have more reasons to get mad at my older brother. 

He named Jon heir.

While that was noble of him to think of Jon as he always promised him legitimancy, and as succession goes - the next male in line or any other next in line, Bran, Rickon, and I were presumed dead already - but Sansa was  _not._

Yes, it made sense that Sansa was a Lannister bride then, meaning a lion spawn of hers would not be accepted to rule after Robb. Still -  _still,_ declaring that meant giving up Sansa altogether and whatever shit honor he thought was afforded high born hostages. Was he that naive to think that they won't hurt an innocent girl? That being wed to a Lannister would be a shield for her? We were talking about people who pushed little boys from a tower, butchered innocent children just because of their blood, and fucked their own. 

Seven hells,  _Jamie fucking Lannister_ was a high born hostage and he was treated as shit in all other ways sans being beaten up. 

Of course, of course only Sansa would think that she was a rightful sacrifice - a small contribution to  _Robb's_ success. 

How can he give up Sansa? Just as I had Jon, Robb was Sansa's! 

But then of course, Robb would assume Sansa knew her duty and would understand and true enough that is what she's telling Jon right now. 

 _"Stop defending him!"_ Jon, who rarely raised his voice was desperately doing it now.  _Yes! Listen to Jon!_

 _"Why? He was being _dutiful._ He was being a _king._ He _had_ to _do_ it!" _ came Sansa's unflinching comeback that made me wince.

 _"Do what? Robb had to kill you Sansa?"_ Jon shot back and I just knew he regretted saying it at once but it needed to be said.

A pause.

My heart thumped and then Sansa's reply sent a chill down my spine.

_"I did it to Rickon."_

I wanted to barge in again and shake her and shake her and maybe slap her. You didn't! You didn't Sansa! That was different! Jon, tell her!

_"That was different. You know it was! I know I was against it but I realized that there really was no way to save him. You didn't sacrifice him. He was as good as dead! As much as you think I was the only one who tried to save him, I knew you wanted to as well. You hoped for it. You did everything you could and thought of! I did as well. But there was just no way to save him. Even if you told me of the Vale."_

Thank the gods Jon Snow. Thank the gods.

And then I couldn't hear them any more than hushed whispers and crying.

And then they were shouting again about Baelish and this time Brienne went up and knocked while I stood frozen where I hid with what I heard caused Jon to go blindingly mad.

 _Petyr Baelish touched my sister. Twice. Twice he kissed her - he kissed her!_ Bile started to rise up.

Jon was out for blood but they managed to calm him. I thought maybe I'd slip away and do the honors myself but his head was Sansa's to take.

When Jon emerged, he was livid and desperate and helpless.

Despite all that, when he looked into my eyes, he blurted out "Arya."

If I outed myself, he'd so easily convince me to murder Baelish right then and there but Sansa was right. We couldn't. Not without taking care of the consequences that could come with it. So I played my part well, revealing I was a warg instead.

After we made our plans, I snuck in Jon's chamber to see if Sansa was still there where we left her while Jon went to clear his head at the godswood.

Sansa wasn't there so I went to their shared solar and saw Ghost lying outside her door. 

Ghost looked at me then and I willed him not to go near me even if I wanted nothing more but to hug him. 

I was about to leave when I realized it's been a long time since I've been here and back then it was still father's solar. 

I ran a hand down his writing desk, looking for the drawings I carved below the table when I saw the hidden drawer father told me about seemed untouched for ages.

I guess Jon was never told about this. 

I wiped the heavy dust as I crouched under the table and felt for the hidden latch. When it opened, a number of letters fell down.

I gathered them and scanned them over and gasped at what I read.

They were letters. Unsent letters. Drafts. Some were to me, for father, for Bran and Rickon, Jon...but mostly...

From Robb to Sansa.

My heart swelled and constricted from mixed feelings. 

I would have to send a raven to Uncle Edmure and Lord Tytos and maybe the Imp for what it's worth.

I couldn't help but move Ghost aside as I entered my sister's room after all.

I bolted the door, stoked the fire, removed my mask, and slid in next to my sister.

A blue eye peeked at me and she smiled sleepily while reaching out to place her hand on top of mine before falling back into the deep sleep of the exhausted.

Tomorrow I would do my job as I've been doing, but I would also send my ravens, and face the ghosts I've been avoiding for nearly a full turn now since coming back.

Looking at my sister's finally peaceful face, I couldn't help but feel so proud of her for being the rightful Queen the North could ever hope to have - for knowing where her place in the world would be, for knowing what it means to be a Stark.

She was the only one who was truly protecting the North's interest - completely and utterly committed to it. 

It was only right that we protect her in turn even if she doesn't believe that anyone can anymore.

I adjusted our hands, so I could grasp it tight instead, as I wept myself to sleep beside her in the bed that used to be our mother's. 

If...if only for a short while. 

I knew them well enough that after a night like this, one or both of them would have a nightmare and both of them would seek each other almost instinctively. 

But for now, just for now, I wanted to be with my sister, here where the cold can never touch again.  

It was only right to have the warmest room in the castle be given to it's lady - it's heart.

 


	6. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The final one for Arya. It took some time and many rewrites, but it's finally here. Thank you for all the support! The clip of Arya in Northern Armor from the trailers really helped to keep me inspired to write this as best as I could to give her a great homecoming. Enjoy!

_"Of course you are. You're almost there and you're afraid you won't make it. The closer you get, the worse the fear gets. No point in trying to hide behind that face. I know fear when I see it. Seen it a lot."_

_- **The Hound**_

* * *

 

 _A growl escaped once_ he  _finally came to view._

_His hair was no longer long and wavy but shorn and cropped close yet it was still undeniably that hateful blond._

_And his eyes were still green but had a hardness in them when they've been nothing but pride before._

_Yet the slant of his eyes, the curve of his grin, no matter that they held humility now were still too reminding of the bitch Queen Cersei._

_Jaime Lannister has come to Raventree at last._

_"Easy, Nymeria," my uncle Edmure warned. I glanced at him and though he looked calm, his Tully blue eyes never wavered from the Kingslayer._

_I growled again but sat on my haunches, watching him._

_He walked over to us with his golden hand up, his other palm up in surrender._

_Beside me, the welcoming party were tense and filled with anger._

_Lord Howland Reed, Lord Tytos Blackwood, Ser Galbert Glover, Lady Anya Waynwood, and of course, my uncle Edmure and I - in Nymeria's body, were before the giant Heart Tree with the many ravens as we received the Kingslayer's parley._

_Needless to say, everyone here had no love for Lannisters._

_Jaime Lannister regarded us, some of the bravado - fake or not, returned to him as he smirked. "Quite the welcoming party."_

_I moved forward then ahead of the Lords and Lady Waynwood, my growl being answered by a series of howls from the nearby woods._

_The Kingslayer looked nervous then but had the gall to chuckle._

_"Of course a direwolf would be present. The last time I saw one - "_

_"What do you want, Kingslayer? Say your peace and be done with it," Uncle Edmure cut him off._

_Jaime looked at him then, keeping his smirk. "Lord Edmure, you're looking better."_

_Ser Galbert touched his pommel then just as I bared my teeth._

_Uncle Edmure stayed us and moved forward._

_Jaime sighed then and there we saw the trace of fatigue in the lines that started showing on his brow._

_"As much as I'd like to jest around, I have actually, come for peace."_

_"Peace?" Lord Blackwood spat._

_Jaime looked at him then for a moment and something akin to admiration was in his eyes before looking at my uncle again. "Peace," he confirmed._

_Uncle Edmure looked livid then but he waited for a few steadying breaths before speaking. "Start talking."_

_Jaime smirked again. "The Riverlands are yours once more, Lord Edmure."_

_Lord Blackwood grumbled but my uncle stepped forward. "How very generous, Kingslayer. Is this the part where I kneel and lick your boot in gratitude?"_

_I growled making Jaime swallow before speaking once more. "I have written your niece and Queen in the North, Sansa Stark, that I and more than half of all the Lannister men from the The Rock are hers to command. As a sign of goodwill, I have withdrawn my men from your bannermens' keeps, relinquishing their homes and titles back to them and they are ready to declare for you and Queen Sansa. While I cannot guarantee the whole of the Westerlands, everything that King Robb Stark has won by conquest would be ceded back to his successor."_

_Uncle Edmure was still while Lord Blackwood couldn't help himself. "You forget yourself, ser. King Robb's kingdom as King of the Trident has not been completely turned over by his passing. My House may be the last House standing among the Riverlands untouched by Freys and Lannisters, but it has never yielded to anyone since the King in the North"_

_Jaime sighed. "Ah. Let me rephrase then. The rest of Riverlands, are now free of the Crown's influence."_

_"And what does your sister - Queen Cersei, think about that?"_

_Jaime's eyes hardened but there was pain too. "Cersei Lannister no longer concerns me."_

_Uncle Edmure scoffed and laughed mockingly then, his eyes wide and raging. "My how the tides turn! The last we spoke, you told me you'd slaughter every Tully, take Riverrun, catapult my son back to me all to get back to your sister. That she was all that mattered to you. And now you tell us that 'Cersei Lannister no longer concerns you?'" He shook his head and Jaime, to his credit said nothing._

_"Tell me, Kingslayer. When you went to my tent, me as the prisoner, you my charge and we talked about our sisters, after your passionate vow to your sister, did you even think about your vow to mine? Against everyone including her own son, my King and nephew, my sister set you free with your word to return her daughters. Where were you when they beat and married off my beautiful niece, Sansa to your imp brother so insultingly? I heard the beatings didn't stop even if she bore your cursed Lannister name. Or was returning her to Winterfell at the mercy of your Bolton dogs your sick way of saying you fulfilled your vow? That marrying her to the unstable bastard your bastard son legitimized - the bastard son of the man who murdered her mother and brother was a reward? Did you know, Kingslayer, that the bastard raped my poor niece and beat her and did other monstrous acts that squeezed every ounce of her innocence - whatever was left from under your bastard's whims from her every night since he placed the flayed man over her shoulders? And what of my other niece, Arya? Tough, brave, and defiant? When were you going to tell us that she has died or was killed for likely being less than subservient than her older sister? Tell me again, Kingslayer, what happened to the vow Cat held on until her death for setting you free? Was it worth it? Choosing your vow to your sister over my own?"_

_I eyed Jaime then and saw his eyes filled with anger and pride but he had the decency to look pained and regretful._

_"Being Tyrion's wife was safer for her than sending her back to her home which was nothing but ashes and ruin then. As for the Boltons, you'd have to ask Petyr Baelish for that. All I know is that after my son was murdered at his own wedding, I charged Ladt Brienne of Tarth to look for the Stark girls. Since my son took Ned Stark's head, we have not seen or heard word of Arya Stark. If the Gods are merciful, the Stranger has taken her. All I know is that one is, for a fact, still alive. I can waste away time trying to explain my actions but all would fall on deaf ears. I can only speak of the present. Sansa Stark, is my last chance of honor then, she still is now. I regret many things, but pledging my fealty along with my men to her now will never be one of them," He said straight and calm, his back straight but his eyes no matter how serious, belied his exhaustion and none of the arrogance he once had. His good hand twitched to move to his golden hand so subtly. Gone was the greatest swordsman and youngest Kingsguard. Before us was a broken man clambering for scraps of dignity._

_Uncle Edmure was not moved as were the others. Nor was I. He was the reason Bran could never walk again. He was the reason for Robb's...I couldn't help but growl again as my uncle_ _moved forward and eyed him head to toe, his knuckles white at his side. "Fuck you, Kingslayer. And Fuck your concerns. Fuck your vows. If it weren't for your House, my sisters would've been alive. My nephews and niece would've been alive. My great uncle would've been alive. There wouldn't even be a war! Everyone had to die because of your family's funny definition of honor. So forgive us if we don't take your word. Why should we? And besides, my Queen and niece has not answered you directly yet."_

_Jaime laughed rudely. "I rather deserve that. But it stands the same, whether you accept me and my men or not, we will aid in resisting any threat to Queen Sansa Stark and would not interfere with any matters not required of us.The Riverlands, as I've said, is yours. Only the Twins are held by my men all the Freys are all in the cells save for your lady wife, your son, and Lady Alyssa. It is only awaiting a castellan of your appointment, and then of course, the matter of Harrenhal which is still Littlefinger's."_

_Lady Anya sniffed haughtily at the mention of his name._

_Uncle Edmure spoke again. "The Twins belong to my son. I will collect him myself. And Lady Alyssa shall be my castellan there. But another matter, Kingslayer, what about your brother? The Imp has found a different queen to pledge to. Do you not wish to aid him and this queen and be a Targaryen knight once more? How are we to know you have not already? That the two of you are working on manipulating the North and the Riverlands for our surrender?"_

_Jaime fought sighing again. "Who my brother pledges to is of no matter to me, unless it's to Sansa Stark. Besides, might I remind you how I 'earned' the name Kingslayer?"_

_"And now you affirm your lack of honor," Uncle Edmure scoffed._

_"Again, I regret many things, but that is also not one of them. Lord Edmure, we could go around and around and it all boils the same. Take up my offer, or order me away," he said wearily._

_Uncle Edmure eyed him again before nodding at Lord Tytos who moved forward._

_"As part of my Queen's council, I was tasked with her words in her place. She will have the Riverlands and she would have it under Lord Tully or none at all. But as for your fealty and your men, you'll have word of it soon after I've corresponded with her grace. And this, I would counsel. Ser Jaime -_

_"Just Jaime or Kingslayer if you prefer, Lord Blackwood. I am no longer a knight," he interrupted._

_"Lord Jaime, then," he continued, ignoring the annoyed sigh. "Lord Edmure and I have been receiving ravens from the River Lords, that is true and for weeks now, your word seem true. Yet we require more. We require more show of your...good will."_

_"I thought as much," he then nodded at his lone companion - a roguish man with long dark hair and black eyes. "Bronn, if you please."_

_Bronn carried a large golden chest that thankfully did not have a trace of Lannister red or lion._

_He opened the lid and uncle Edmure looked at the stack of papers._

_He bristled. "What is this?"_

_"The letters... are all the ones my brother and I recovered from the Keep as well as from Riverrun. All are letters from King Robb to his sister - ones I know, have been opened and read but not by the one it was meant for. But those are not the only ones," he motioned for Bronn again and he lifted the cloth below the stack of letters to reveal a grand sword._

_"My late father, thought to melt down the Stark ancestral sword Ice into two swords. One for me and one for his grandson," he paused when I growled._

_Ice! They bastardized father's sword! Robb's..._

_I felt a hand on my pelt then. Uncle's as he cautioned me._

_Jaime blinked and swallowed. "Mine I gave your Queen's captain when I sent her to look for her. 'Protect Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's sword' I bid her. And its twin, I stole from my other son, and now return it to its rightful owner. But I have more to give."_

_He stepped forward and clutched at the satchel that hung from him and procured a pouch of red with a lion seal, putting it on top of the letters before eyeing Lord Edmure._

_"Lord Brynden Tully, Lady Catelyn Stark, and King Robb Stark's remains we have recovered including the king's direwolf's. They are in Riverrun awaiting to be honored their due. But in the meantime, here is my final gift." He raised his golden hand then._

_"Inside the pouch is what remains of my sword hand. It is not much, but it has always been my greatest contribution for my existence. It was all that kept people from looking down at me. And it was all I used to protect the people as much as I could. It was the hand that killed a mad king. It was the hand that crippled a boy. It was the hand that brought my sister pleasure. It was the hand that scathed a father. And it was the hand I paid for defending a woman's honor. My pride, my shame -  it belongs to Queen Sansa Stark for whatever she deems worth it. To accept whatever her grace thinks to do with it."_

_I stared at him disbelieving._

_In those green eyes there were no lies._

_Letters. More to give Sansa._

_Father's sword can be whole again._

_My family's bodies can be put to rest._

_Everyone was speechless, but not for long when Lady Anya spoke up._

_"Perhaps, there is one more thing you can do to show your good faith, Lord Jaime," she arched a brow._

_Jaime looked at her then almost eager._

_"But first, we'd like to know. If our Queen asks for your sister's head, and ask that you be the one to take it, would you?"_

_Jaime paled and took too long to answer but he gave a nod. "The realm has suffered enough from mad rulers. I killed one mad ruler before, what is another?" He said convincingly yet there was pain in his eyes._

_"Lucky for you and your sister, our Queen is just and merciful. She'll not go the craven way and hire assassins to kill people in their sleep. Your sister shall have her trial should it come to it. But for now, that is not our task. Your task, my lord, is to help us amass the evidence against Littlefinger."_

_"As my Queen commands, it shall be done."_

_"No, not your Queen yet for she has yet to accept your fealty," Uncle Edmure interrupted. "But this is your last chance, Kingslayer. Do everything in your power to help us kill the mockingbird from the spit land of the Fingers that tore my family apart."_

_I looked at Jaime then and saw only resolve. "I will not fail."_

I opened my eyes then and recalled everything to Lady Brienne and the rest of the secret council save Sansa who was at the Godswood, and Jon who was at the training ground - the two of them were still at odds with each other since that night Jon rejected Sansa's proposal at our behest. 

I pray that battle between them would be repairable when everything takes place according to plan for they both look so miserable as though they are living in the seven hells.

But for now, after reclaiming my father's lands, at least we have our mother's lands back too.

I'll have to convince Lord Tytos though to present Jaime's hand to Sansa in private after seeing the distress in Brienne's face. 

Maybe Sansa can give it to her...or feed it to Ghost, or give it to Bran. 

In any case, that hand - that symbolized Jaime's pride and shame was also reminding of mother's sacrifice, and Robb's failure. 

I sighed. 

Only a little longer and everything will be as it should be.

* * *

 

 "When are you coming home, Bran?"

We were inside a dark unfamiliar room, barely kept warm with the fire burning in the Hearth. He was in Castle Black, protected by Jon's former brothers.

Well, he was there and I was just here in our minds with his greenseeing.

Bran towered over me - he was likely the tallest of us, looking down warmly at all of us had he not been crippled, with father's eyes in all but color, and Sansa's smile. 

"Soon, Arya. When the time is right," he answered.

I sighed. "Does Jon know you are here? Does Sansa?"

His smile was wide though his eyes were a little sad. "No, Arya. Though I have spoken to Sansa once."

I never asked before and this was the only contact I've had of him since Raventree. He told me what happened beyond the Wall about Lord Brynden Rivers, the Children of the Forest, the Night's King, Uncle Benjen, and Hodor. I knew he had talked to Rickon before... _my heart clenched._  

I didn't think to ask if he talked with Sansa or Jon.

"What did you tell Sansa?"

"I told her I was alive and would come home soon. I told her about the Night's King and his army. The impending collapse of the Wall. And I made her promise me three things," he walked towards the frosted over window that offered a view of nothing but darkness. "One is not to look for me. The other is to promise not to tell Jon about me."

"And the last?" 

He looked back at me then. "Trust in Jon no matter what."

I rolled my eyes. "She'd still have a lookout for you, you know that. And she'd tell Jon about you when she thinks she absolutely needs to. And the last," I snorted. "You don't need to tell her that. She already does."

Bran chuckled then. "Oh I don't doubt any of that. Still, it won't hurt to have someone tell her. Her rift with Jon is tearing her apart even if she has nothing but faith in him."

I sat down then and nodded absently before looking up at him again. "Bran?"

"Yes?"

"What do you - how do you feel about - about - 

"Them?" Brain finished for me.

I nodded.

He looked away and walked to stoked the fire. "I've seen too many things, Arya, to judge them for it. And besides, I've known for a while now that Jon is our cousin. And I've seen the future of Winterfell being ruled by them together as King and Queen."

"Still, he was raised as our brother, Bran. I still struggle with it," I admitted.

He sighed. "I understand. But we've all suffered so much. I don't want to begrudge anyone of us any sliver of happiness. Yet I believe that should father chose differently and revealed his secret, having them betrothed the moment Sansa was born would've made the most sense. Even if he revealed later than that, that would still be the best course. And cousins have been wed in our family for centuries."

I grumbled but agreed with him. "Then it was a good thing that mother kept them apart. Otherwise, I don't think they...I mean what if it was   _me..."_ I shuddered in disgust. 

He laughed again. "He will always be our brother, Arya. Yours more than most. Perhaps it was a blessing then that mother kept them apart. Still, they found each other when they were both at their lowest and together they worked to rebuild themselves from the ashes. It may feel and look wrong, but it also does not. Not really. Sansa has now seen - truly seen how kind, loyal, and loving Jon can be - everything that father promised you both. He is the one that made her feel safe again. And Jon cannot help, but be awed with our sister. How can he not fall for her when all she does is strive to make people not only respect her but love her?"

"I know, I know. I'm just...you know," I shrugged. "But I'll get over it."

He grinned then but his smile faded just slightly. "Rickon was more accepting than you, you know. Sure he was confused but then do you know what he said?"

I raised my brows expectantly.

"Rickon said that it doesn't matter. 'They look happy' he said. And that seemed enough for him," he smiled sadly.

I felt like crying. _Rickon._

"You know he said that maybe Sansa and Jon should've ran away to Essos or somewhere. Forget Winterfell. Forget the North. He said that maybe the North deserved to perish from the Others for just remembering and doing nothing but wait. He even said that he wished Sansa would die just so her suffering would end. He also said that if you had sense, you'd follow Jon and Sansa wherever they escape to and forget everything and just be free," he continued.

I couldn't speak. I could've just stayed in Braavos. I didn't have to come back.

I looked at Bran then and was shocked at the look of pain on his face. "Bran - "

"I told him to remember what father used to say. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

He didn't need to elaborate. I knew what it meant because it was the same reason that made me come back.

"Sometimes...I think that maybe if I didn't tell him that - that our little brother wouldn't have to require himself to be delivered in Sansa's place just so the North had a best chance of survival under Sansa - that he would be alive now. But what he did... had to happen."

I wrapped my arms around Bran then and we wept together.

 "He was a true Stark," I mumbled.

"He was. Better than most, our brother," he sniffed. "He saw too, Arya. Saw what the monster did to Sansa as I saw almost nightly helplessly."

I held him tighter. "Sansa killed their name. They are nothing now. The rest of our enemies - We'll make them all pay too."

Bran whispered against me. "There are three Starks in Winterfell now. That is all that matters."

He pulled away then and eyed me. "Now go back, Arya. It's time for you to go back."

"Can't I go to you instead, Bran?"

He smiled and shook his head slowly. "Your place is there, Arya. As my place is there too. I will go home soon."

I looked down. "Sometimes...I don't know what I should be -  _who_ I should be. Sometimes I think that maybe I can live out the rest of my life as Jyanna. At least, a queensguard is a place."

"Arya, Jyanna is a Snow and a Reed. You, are a  _Stark._ Your place is there," he said firmly.

"As what? Sansa is a queen. Jon is a king and a crowned prince. You are the Three-eyed-Raven. Who am I? What use am I but a spare? Soon enough I'll be married off no matter how much they promise not to."

He frowned. "Arya, they would never do that to you. And you are most certainly not a spare. While Sansa is the Queen of three kingdoms,  _you_ are the Lady of Winterfell."

I gaped at him. "I am  _no_ lady!"

He chuckled then. "You attend Sansa's council meetings. Have you not met the Northern representatives? Are not all of them women? And one of them is like you. Lady Lyanna Mormont. You are a true lady of the North more than you think." 

I thought over his words. He had a point. Still. 

"And besides... you might even be Lady of the Stormlands," he elbowed me. "I heard your blacksmith friend is still alive."

I glared at him, never mind the blush that heated my cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Go home, Arya. I'll talk to you soon. Nymeria is waiting for you at the Wolfswood." 

"Fine. But answer one more question."

He cocked his head.

"Why didn't you contact Jon? I mean, you called Theon even! Why not Jon?" I stared pointedly at him.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't interfere with Jon's fate. He has a bigger role to fill and there is nothing more that I could tell him that he doesn't know already. That and he is almost as bad as Sansa - probably order one of his brother's here to kidnap me and force me home. Besides, none of you told him that I talked to each of you. And everything I need him to see, I'll let him see when we're face to face with each other."

I blinked and huffed. "Fine."

"Now go home, Arya. You will find your place eventually as we all have and yours starts with  _home."_

* * *

It was the first time I walked the halls of Winterfell as Arya Stark in plain view of others.

Littlefucker's body was all but ashes and ember, left to cool in the courtyard before being collected and placed in its rightful place to be forgotten. 

It was such a big relief to kill him - kill the man responsible for tearing not only my family, but the kingdom apart. 

And now we were free.

Winterfell and the North was truly ours now and under the rule of Sansa and soon, Sansa would rule with Jon once they marry in a fortnight.

Sansa was Queen in the North, the Trident, the Vale and the Golden Tooth. 

Jon was her consort in all yet Sansa would name him King. He was also the Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the Iron Throne.

Their children will rule the whole of Westeros in the future. 

Bran was the Three-Eyed Raven. 

Now that I took off Jyanna's face, who was I?

After the execution and after talking to Bran, I decided to take a ride to the wolfswood to fetch Nymeria at last. 

I had just swung up my sword when I felt someone call out my name.

Jon.

"Arya - where are you going?" he jogged over to me and my heart picked up from anxiety. I wasn't ready to talk to him yet. 

Seeing his eyes filled with concern, he was probably worried that I would run away.

I gave a small smile but kept from looking at his grey eyes - eyes that were so much like my own and father's. "I'm just going to the wolfswood, Jon. Clear my head. I won't be gone long," I assured him.

I dared to look back at him and see him struggle for words. "Do you - do you want me to come with you?"

My heart swelled and I almost cried that he was struggling to find words for me - _me_ \- this never happened before - not to us. Instead, I shook my head. "This is something I need to do alone, Jon."

He swallowed and looked so stricken that the words stumbled out so quickly. "I-I'll want to talk to you when I get back... though not - not tonight but tomorrow - soon..i-if you're not too busy," I reddened.

His eyes lit up and he grinned his Jon grin, the kind lines etching his face while he nodded eagerly. "I'll always have time for you Arya. I can wait. Anytime at all, just send for me."

I bit my tongue and could do nothing but offer him another smile and a curt nod. 

"Arya?"

I looked back. 

"Be safe, little sister. Do what you need to do and come back  _home,"_ he smiled softly. "You can even take Ghost with you."

I held back a sob then and nodded. _He called me little sister._  "I will. Thank you Jon. And Ghost can come if he wants."

In answer, Ghost, all white and red eyes, ran eagerly beside me. 

Jon laughed then. "Go."

I grinned and meant it this time. "See you later...brother."

It was his turn to look choked up that I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him and laugh before leading my horse to a gallop.

* * *

_"Sansa?"_

_"Hmm?" she hummed in answer just as Ghost butted his head against Sansa's hand, demanding to be petted to which she obliged laughingly._

_I balked._

_She looked up at me then and her eyes filled with concern in time with Ghost's whine. "What is it, Arya?"_

_I looked down then and in that moment, Ghost decided to come to me and lick my face making this ten thousand times worse._

_"Arya?"_

_I hid my face in Ghost's warm fur as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I - I'm sorry about Lady. She didn't deserve to die - she was good."_

_Sansa looked pained then and surprised but I truly meant it. If only I understood that she had to do what she had to do that day when Nymeria attacked Joffrey the cunt. If only I snuck Lady out too like I did Nymeria. Maybe she would be with Nymeria and her pack too. But we were children. Still... Jon had Ghost. I'll be with Nymeria soon... Sansa...would Sansa have been safer in King's Landing if she still had Lady? No, they'd kill her there too._

_"I'm sorry."_

_I felt her hand on my hair then. "If there is anyone that should apologize for that day, it's me."_

_I looked up at her then and shook my head. "You did what you must. I understand now. Father told me too."_

_She sighed then and knelt in front of me, taking my hands in hers. "We both were at fault then for we both lost our wolves that day. Lets just take comfort in the fact that it was a great mercy that they were not in King's Landing. I should hate myself if I see their skins on Joffrey's floor or Cersei's shoulders. They are in a better place now."_  

_She was right. "Sansa..."_

_"Yes?"_

_"Nymeria is alive," I admitted, hoping that Sansa would not feel the ache of not having a wolf of her own. I'd share Nymeria with her too just as Jon shared Ghost - seven hells, Ghost was more Sansa's now than Jon's the way he followed her around more than his original master._

_But Sansa only grinned and smiled sweetly and happily. "That is wonderful news, Arya! I'm so happy for you."_

_I searched her face for any sign that said otherwise. Nymeria is why Lady had to die after all. There should be some pain in there. I would understand._

_She sensed my thoughts then and shook her head. "I would not begrudge you your direwolf, Arya. I have already made peace with Lady's death. I just want everyone's happiness..." she then looked to say more but hesitated._

_"What is it?"_

_"Arya...is - is this why she's not here? Were you afraid I'd resent her - resent you if she was here?"_

_I gasped and shook my head furiously. "No! That's not it at all! It's just... I am still Jyanna."_

_She blinked and cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. "Of course. I forgot. But soon you won't have to be Jyanna and the moment you aren't you must come get her."_

_"You know, you don't have to be perfect all the time," I smirked._

_She scoffed._

_"Everyone loves you."_

_She stood up and went back to her place by the Hearth and picked up her sewing hoop, suddenly silent._

_She was likely thinking about Jon and his rejection._

_I wanted so much to tell her that Jon loves her the most out of everyone in this damned world. But I can't. The plan demands that she doubt._

_So I kept silent._

_"Arya?" she broke the silence._

_"Yep?"_

_"Does...does  Jon know about you?" she asked while she continued sewing._

_I shook my head. "No. Only you. He'll only give me away. He won't let me do what I've been doing. I mean, I've got enough earful from you. I don't need him fathering me of all things."_

_She wrinkled her nose but nodded in agreement - to what, I wasn't sure. "You are putting yourself in danger but I know that you do what you want regardless of what I say so I just ask that you be careful."_

_"I am. Stop mothering me," I rolled my eyes._

_She giggled. "As if anyone can mother you. Our own mother - formidable as she w-was, couldn't reign you in." She finished lightly but there was sadness mixed in it._

_Mother. I tried not to dwell in that or any other ghosts of the past._

_"He misses you, you know. He doesn't like to admit it but he has faith that you are alive."_

_I bit my tongue until I finally admitted. "I miss him too. I have to be honest, I missed him the most even then."_

_She smiled. "I'm sure he misses you the most then and now too. You were always thick as thieves before."_

_'As if you and Robb were no better' I almost replied but then that thought only both saddened and annoyed me. I knew Jon would never do what Robb did to her. Even if I understood a little where he came from when I read his letters to Sansa, I was still mad at him because Sansa who didn't even have Robb's explanations forgives him wholly._

_"What's wrong now?" her blue eyes pierced mine._

_"Sansa, why aren't you mad at Robb?" I blurted, couldn't take it anymore._

_"Oh."_

_I bristled. "Oh?!"_

_She stopped sewing then, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's not that I'm not... hurt by what he did but I can't get mad at what he had to do, Arya. I know you heard my conversation with Jon about this. You already know how I feel about it."_

_"Fuck duty, Sansa! Father went to war for his sister! Uncle Brandon and grandfather Rickard went to the Mad King for her. He was being a coward for his bannermen. And then for what? He broke his vows and took up with a woman who should've known better!" I practically screamed at her but couldn't lest we be heard outside._

_She looked annoyed and frustrated then as she threw her embroidery hoop and looked at me. "The circumstances were different Arya. Robb was seventeen when he started his campaign! And he probably expected that I was treated as a highborn hostage - a girl at that would be. He didn't know. He was pressured, I can only imagine with lords older than him and were battle tested. Yes, it was wrong of him to lock up mother and not heed her counsel. Yes, it was probably better if he agreed to the trade. Yes, he probably would be alive now if he honored his vows to the Freys. But he made his decisions. He died for it. Isn't that enough? He tried the best he could. He's not perfect, Arya. None of us are."_

_Even if she was right, I still wanted more from her. "Next you'll tell me the cunt, Theon should be pardoned."_

_I crossed the line there as she stood up and narrowed her eyes at me. "Hasn't Theon suffered enough? And mind you, I would not be alive today if it weren't for him."_

_I stood up then and shook my head. "No. It's not enough. Even if he didn't kill Bran and Rickon, he still betrayed our family. Why does he get to live when Rickon, Robb, father and mother had to die?"_

_She softened slightly then but kept her stance. "I said the same thing to Theon. I asked him why he still lived when they are dead. But Theon suffered for that mistake already, Arya."_

_"Then why is he pledging with the Dragon Queen instead of you?"_

_She had no words for that._

_"Well?"_

_She sighed. "When Theon and I parted, he was going home to Pyke just as I was on my way to Jon. He probably thought that Jon and I would run away. Who knows? Maybe he thought that we would meet with Daenerys Targaryen too and join her cause. He  probably didn't think I would want to come back to Winterfell as long as Ramsay lived."_

_"Jon would kill him if he went with you to Castle Black."_

_She shook her head. "He won't. We already discussed it."_

_I fumed. "Oh because you have him wrapped around your pretty little finger, don't you?" I couldn't help it. Even if this was going against letting her doubt his feelings._

_She let out an exasperated breath. "Arya," she said warningly._

_"What? You love him, don't you? Now that he is more the prince straight out of your books and songs." I didn't know why I was being hateful but I didn't care. I wanted to push her. I wanted to push her and push her and push her. Why? I don't really know. Maybe it's because I can't drag her to the training yard and not hold back like I would if it was Jon. I want to go at her full force just as I want her to go at me with just as much too. But this was Sansa. Words were her battleground._

_And I almost succeeded, but she instead, looked heartbroken making me feel guilty. Just a little._

_"What does it matter, Arya? Yes, I love him. But don't worry. He wants to be our brother, and that's what he'll be. Even if we are forced by different hands to be married anyway, we would be married in paper only and he can go on and be a brother to you and Bran when he comes home. I will do my duty as I have always done before. What's another marriage? And if he gets forced enough to agree to consummate then I'll do what it takes to make sure that blossoms with an heir so we won't have to do it again. At least it won't be with a stranger. Or he marries his aunt. Eitherway, I do not dictate what he wants to do. I can only do my duty," she said as carefully controlled and patiently, though I knew her heart was breaking more and more._

_I let it go for now and sat back down. I didn't mean for her to feel bad._

_I just wanted... I just wanted her to get mad with me, just this once - duty be damned. But it was foolish of me to even try. That wasn't Sansa. Sansa was always the more rational one and the even-tempered one - the cool head to my flaming one._

_"Arya, will you please tell me now what's really bothering you?" She sat beside me._

_I frowned._

_She waited patiently._

_I kept silent._

_She then reached for her hoop and placed it in my lap. She was embroidering wolves. Brown, Grey, Black, and White. Six direwolves._

_"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, Arya. You know that. I know that. Everyone of us knew that. Winterfell would always be our home no matter where we go or end up. It may seem like such a mistake that we left Winterfell, but I really believe that, as hard as our journey was, it had to be done. Father had to become the Hand of King. Robb had to become the King in the North and the Trident. Mother had to be Robb's advisor. Rickon had to come home as the last known male heir. Bran has to be the Three Eyed Raven. Jon had to be the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and now he is the heir to the Iron Throne. I had to be Sansa Lannister and Sansa Bolton before I became the Queen in the North. Everyone had to leave to know their place and role."_

_She lifted me chin to look up at her then. "You had to be No One. But now you're here. You are my heir. And Bran can be your heir if you never marry. Never think that you don't have a place other than who you are playing now - the Queensguard, Jyanna. If you don't want to be my heir, Bran will be. Or one of Jon's sons or even daughter when he marries.There are other ways. You can be whoever you want to be Arya. You don't have to know your place right now, just know that you have a home always and family. You're still young, Arya. There's still so much time."_

_I shut my eyes and cried then._

_How - how could she have known?_

_"Since when did you become the most sensible one?" I mumbled though hiccups and sobs._

_She laughed softly while she bade me to turn around so she could braid my hair. "Since when did you become a crying little girl?"_

_"I hate you," I said but grinned despite the sobbing. "And I'm still upset with you."_

_She only smiled at me and smirked, tugging on my hair a little. "I love you too, Arya."_

_"Sansa?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"I don't really hate you. I never did."_

_"I know."_

_Sansa started humming._

_"..."_

_"Sans?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I don't hate Robb."_

_"You don't, I believe you."_

_"..."_

_"Sansa?"_

_She giggled. "Yes, Arya?"_

_"I'm okay...you know... with you loving Jon...that way."_

_She stopped humming. She let out a breath behind me after a while._

_"Thank you Arya."_

* * *

 The ride did me good, clearing my head a little as Ghost and I raced towards the Wolfswood. 

Being like this felt like I never left all along. 

If I close my eyes I can even imagine Robb on my tail with his easy smile with Rickon giggling in front of him, urging him, 'Go faster Robb! Faster!' and Robb would laugh, order him to 'Hold on tight then little brother'." Just as father used to do with me when I was too young to ride by myself - and of course, when we could escape mother's notice. 

Bran would be close by, not part of the race, as he was too distracted by everything from the trees to the animals, his eyes lighting up with wonder.

Even Theon would be there, more likely racing against Jon and they'd glare and glare and bicker like idiots.

And though rare, Sansa joined us too - if only for Lady. She wouldn't be part of the race too as she sat side saddle, looking every inch like her wolf's namessake.

Then one by one, they would shoot out from the trees. 

Lady. Grey Wind. Summer. Shaggydog. Ghost. 

And of course...

Emerging from the trees, the full moon showing every bit of her brown and grey fur and golden eyes, body almost as big as my horse, there she was.

I jumped off my horse and met with her halfway, my arms around her large neck in no time while I buried my face on her heavy, warm, and familiar fur while a wet nose bumped against my cheek. 

"Nymeria."

The sound of howling erupted around us.

* * *

 He swung.

I parried.

He came again.

Our swords met.

While we struggled for the upper hand with gritted teeth and white knuckles, I saw the opportunity. "So...have you given her a betrothal gift already?"

His eyes widened while his grip slacked and I grinned as I jumped back and slashed at him, hitting him hard on his shoulder, knocking him down.

I pointed my sword at him and smirked. "Yield."

He glared at me as he rubbed his shoulder. "That was dirty."

"No, that was you distracted out of your damn mind - all out of sorts for my pretty sister," I held out a hand.

He sighed before taking it as I helped him up.

"Arya - " he started.

I shook my head and readied my stance once more.

He didn't say a word as he went to position as well.

At Nymeria and Ghost's howl we started once more.

This time, he didn't hold back.

_Good._

After a series of blows that never landed, block after block, we were panting already. 

After catching me from behind, Needle keeping Longclaw inches from my face, he was the one who spoke this time. "I thought you wanted to talk."

I swung my hair at his face and jumped when his hold slacked while I kicked him really hard on the chest. "We are. But I promised to show you my water dance. And I promised not to hold back."

He puffed out and then went at me so fast and powerful that he tapped my arm good. "Fine. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

I sighed, jumping back just before he got my leg. "I wanted to. But you would foil my plan. Sorry. No, not really."

He dodged, our swords clashed again, and we were face to face again. His face was red, his hair a mess like how I was sure I was too, and we would both be sweating had it not been too cold.

His eyes met mine and they were pleading. "I get that. I'd never let you do half the things you did then."

I raised a brow at him, grunting while I tried to push him back but he wouldn't relent, pushing just as hard back. 

He gave a sheepish grin. "Well, at least I would've tried." 

My arm was feeling needly and I guess his was too because we both jumped apart and still with swords up, we regarded each other, panting all the same. 

"Anyway, I wasn't even meant to be found out. So don't feel bad," I said through gulps of air while I thought of my next move.

"You say Sansa found you out?" 

I smirked. "So did the rest of the Queensguards."

He cursed then and slackened his hold. "I really know nothing."

"Well, you did once - well there were lots of times I think you did- as many times that I wanted to tell you." I took the chance to go at him fast and aimed for his feet, almost succeeding when he stepped back at the right time and swung at me. I spun and was able to parry from behind me, spinning once more and immediately thrust a series of rapid points at him.

He blocked each time and there I saw when I glanced at him was his Jon smile of approval. 

I couldn't help but smile back at him.

This was it.

This was how I had Jon back. 

We carried on for a few more rounds, saying nothing but praise and japes and more laughing. 

It ended with Jon on his ass, yielding.

I dropped Needle and myself beside him on the ground, catching my breath too. 

I watched as he looked at it fondly. "You kept it with you all the time."

I rolled my eyes and smiled at him. "Of course I did, you idiot." 

He chuckled.

Closing my eyes and bringing an arm over it I took larger gulps of air. "It. Was. My. Only. Piece. Of. Home. And. It. Saved. Me. More. Than. Once."

"I'm glad it helped you."

I opened an eye and peeked at him. His own were shut tight. "Father saw me practicing in my room."

He looked at me then and raised a brow.

I looked up the sky and watched the snow come down. "He told me a sword wasn't a toy."

He chuckled. Likely remembering he said the same to me when he gave it.

"I told him I wasn't playing," I exhaled loudly. "So he got me 'water dancing lessons' we called it. With the first sword of Braavos too. His name was Syrio Forel," I said, my voice dropping. "He was my only friend in the capital."

"He must've been a good person, to be called your friend."

I kept staring ahead, feeling the cold touch every time a snowflake landed on my skin. "He was."

Our breaths started to slow and calm.

"Did he teach you how to stick 'em with the pointy end?" 

I chuckled. "Father laughed at that. But he did...he taught me so much. He was small like me and slight for a swordsman. But he was quick on his feet and mind and he uses a skinny sword like Needle - though we've only practiced with wooden swords." 

"Fa-uncle Ned chose wisely then."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can call him father, Jon. No matter what, he was the one who raised you."

He smiled softly at me. "I know, Arya. It's just..." he blushed.

I looked away then and snorted.  _"Right."_

"If only we used steel that day, I'm sure he would've killed them all," I shifted, not ready for  _that_ conversation yet. 

"What happened?"

I told him about that day when father was arrested and all his men were slaughtered. I told him we were practicing when Meryn Trant and two Lannister men came for me. 

"Every time we ended a lesson, he'd ask me, 'Arya, what do we say to the God of Death?' And I'd answer with what he taught me to answer."

He waited.

I closed my eyes, remembering his voice with that heavy Braavosi accent. "Not today."

"I wish I could've said that after my brothers stabbed me," he said half-joking, half-meant. I heard about that and felt my heart aching for him again. 

He didn't say anymore so I figured I'd go on and tell him everything else that happened. 

He listened patiently, as he was always good at listening. Japing once in a while, patting my hand every few moments, knowing I wasn't really touchy. And Sansa already pushed that boundary every day anyway. 

I told him about the mummer's play with Lady Crane and 'King Robert' farting to his death. _Everything._

And in turn, he told me everything too.

I thought I'd cry again or he would, but as we recalled our battles, our eyes were dry and they were only memories in this short time of peace - this small calm before the impending storm. Maybe it was also that we recalled some happy ones too - of friends and places and such. 

He talked about his time at the Wall and beyond it. He even talked about the wildling girl who all but demanded his innocence, and taught him to live before he died. He told me of his brothers - dead and alive. His time as a steward and then as the Lord Commander. 

I told him about Harrenhal and Tywin Lannister, and Jaqen H'gar with his three debts.

"You mean to say, he could give you any name - any name at all?" He looked at me and suddenly this was all too familiar in a different way.

I sniffed, annoyed. "Yes. I chose the Tickler, and the Lannister soldier who almost sold me out, and his own name in exchange for setting me and my friends, Hot Pie and Gendry."

"You couldn't have named Tywin Lannister instead? Or Cersei or - 

I huffed angrily. "Stop. I  _know._ I know. Gendry told me the same thing."

_"You could've ended the war!"_

"Gendry? The blacksmith bastard of Robert?"

"Yes. Gave me a hard time too. How was I to know that he really meant to kill for me? He was in Lannister armor!"

"Well, if there's one thing I've learned,  _things_ _had to happen when it should,"_ he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. 

I sighed. "I suppose."

I eyed him then, "Like how it was that Sansa was the one who found you." 

He looked away and I swear his cheeks colored. "Aye."

"She's thinks about it, you know," why did I just say that?

"About what?"

"How different it would be if I found you instead of her - if you'd be happier."

He scoffed angrily. "How ridiculous."

I raised a brow. "Is it? I'm not asking for my pride, but yeah, is it? I mean, you two don't exactly see eye to eye then."  _Though now that's all you do - moon at each other._

He looked at me then. "It's no secret that you are my best friend, Arya. Ever since. But honestly, when I saw her all I saw was the face of my family staring back at me. It would've been the same - well, maybe more, I'll admit, if it was you, but not once did I think I wasn't any less happy that it was her."

I turned away. "Well, that worked out well in the end." I shrugged.

"Arya - 

I changed the topic once more.

I didn't realize how long we've been there, dirty, bruised, and wet from the ground and snow where we laid on. 

It was only when our stomachs growled their protests that we both stood up, laughing all the same. 

It was then that we threw our swords down and I leapt into his ready arms that I had my brother back. 

He ruffled the top of my hair and kissed my brow while I held on to his neck so tightly.

"I missed you Jon."

"I missed you more, Arya."

I laughed and he laughed and we cried happily. 

I closed my eyes and breathed him in. "Jon, you will always be my brother, even if I have to call you cousin in polite company now."

"Arya, you will always be my little sister. Call me whatever you want. Nothing's changed."

I rolled my eyes. 

He chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"Cousin, brother, it's all the same, Jon. In the end, they're just words and words are wind," I shrugged again. "Besides... can't have me you calling me little sister when you bed  _my_ sister the next."

He was truly flushed now and flustered for words - all his tics coming out from the twitching of his eyebrows, to the rubbing of his neck. 

I couldn't help but laugh at him, throwing my head back, tears leaking out of my eyes.

But he just stood there gaping like a fish.

I decided to take pity on him and calm down, wiping the tears away with my sleeve. "Oh your face!"

He frowned then and crossed his arms against his chest. "It's not funny, Arya."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

He raised a brow.

"No, I'm not. Still," I shrugged and smirked at him but that only lasted a second when he was all broody Jon again, getting reprimanded by my mother. "Come on Jon, I was just fucking around. I've moved past it."

His brows drew then and he searched my eyes. "Truly?"

I softened and picked up our swords, handing him Longclaw before nodding. "Yes. I mean, I  _will_ be, eventually. There are worse things. Just don't - don't like be too obvious with your mooning and keep your 'future fucking' down if I'm within earshot, and we'll be fine."

He grinned then. "I can't promise that. But I will  _try."_

I made a belching sound. "Try  _hard._ At least give me a few months-" I caught his frown - "Seven hells, Jon, can't even give me a few weeks? Days? Hours? Let me adjust a little!"

He ruffled my hair and bumped my shoulder with his as we started walking. "Oh, you'll manage. Just change your face or warg or whatever it is you do now. As you've said, you've seen worse." He smirked. "And mind your language. You are the Lady of Winterfell."

"Double ugh. Maybe you  _should_ fuck soon and get it over with. Maybe we'll all get a rest from all that tension and pinning," I smacked his chest.

He rubbed his chest while he laughed. "Or...it could get worse."

"Ugh."

He grabbed my wrist then and made me stop walking. "Seriously, Arya. We're okay?"

I eyed him then - my first best friend and favorite brother, one half of the black wolf twins that we were known to be before. "What did every redhead in your life tell you, Jon? Oh that's right."

I grinned at him. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," I called at him before sprinting away. 

"Not again!"

I raced ahead, my heart lighter now that I had my brother back. 

* * *

 

 

Today was the day I would give away Sansa to Jon before the Heart Tree.

Today was also the last dawn in Winterfell that I'll see in a long time because I'll be riding to Riverrun after the feast to get a start on preparing my family's remains for they're journey back home.

I was still in bed - my old bed, waking up and almost thinking everything was just a dream and I've never left. 

But then I felt for my scars and saw my reflection then reminded myself that I was to take father's place tonight. 

I laid back and closed my eyes again, savoring the familiar softness of my bed - well, as close to familiar as Sansa managed when she started the reparations. The room still smelt faintly of soot - a reminder of Theon's betrayal. I've not yet forgiven him - hells, only Sansa truly forgave him. If he still had some brains left in his addled head, he'd never step a foot in Winterfell - The North even. 

I took deep breaths and did what Jon taught me. 

_He saved Sansa. He saved Sansa. The dickless shit saved Sansa. Gods damn it. He saved Sansa._

Okay. Okay.

I'm good. 

Theon fucking Greyjoy can have the rest of his pathetic cockless life. 

_Arya!_

I rolled my eyes at Sansa's voice in my head - my new voice of reason, who would've thought?

_"We can still kick his guts out right? Right?"_

_"Aye," Jon nodded. "Just one hit each. But remember -_

_"Don't tell Sansa!" Both of us chorused._

I grinned remembering that there was a sudden gust that ruffled the leaves in the Godswood that faintly sounded like _"Yesssss pleassssse."_

_Bran._

He was in it too.

I removed all thoughts of Theon away and looked around again. 

Same ceilings.

Same walls.

Same window.

I've been back for nearly a moon's turn but last night was the first night that I slept in my old room.

Come to think of it, that one time at Father's room-now-Jon's and a few nights in mother's-now-Sansa's were the only rooms I've been in, and it was just because I had to initially as Jyanna.

The rest...

I rubbed my forehead.

I didn't really wander around the castle as long as I didn't absolutely have to. And even then, I used mice and cats.

With a sigh, I opened my eyes reluctantly, the sky lightening a bit outside my window, nearing dawn.

It was time to get up.

Sitting up with my back against the headboard, I searched for more traces that I owned this room.

Though it was still dark, I could still make out the outlines of my oak wardrobe - freshly painted over with its same brown color to cover the soot. I wasn't sad any more from not seeing the drawings and carvings. Not when I can still trace them with my fingertips no matter how thickly covered.

I got out my bed and walked over to the chest below the footboard of the bed smiling that it was still the old one with my horrible attempt at carving my name. The last 'A' had faded, leaving "ARY", making me remember Hot Pie and of course, Gendry. I didn't want to think about them right now so I opened the chest and felt another shade of bittersweet at not seeing my old clothes as Sansa said the flames took them but then I was now seeing the fresh new ones she thoughtfully replaced them with, Sansa's pristine stitching over every one of them - wolves, trouts, and cats in greys, whites, blacks, deep blues, and some reds - like the dresses and the coats I saw on the wardrobe too.

Just out of habit, my hands went to the bottom to pull out a set of breeches I would hide there, grabbing at whatever cloth was at the bottom.

When I pulled it out and held it up, my heart swelled when I saw it was a pair of dark wool breeches.

"Seven hells, Sansa."

I looked up and blinked rapidly lest I be a silly crying ninny again. _Gods._

I stood up and folded it on top of my bed, promising to wear it later when I changed out of my...dress. Though Sansa promised I didn't have to wear one - that I could dress up in breeches and armor for all she cared - this was likely the only grand wedding we would ever witness and Jon would spare no expense in making it nothing short of perfect for her - wanting to actually push the wedding a few moons if that's what it took to give her the wedding she deserved.

_"She never had a say in her previous marriages - seven hells, she'd have us marry by the Godswood with just you, me, and Bran when he comes home."_

_"So? What if that's what she really wants?"_

_"No. You know her, Arya. She grew up thinking that her wedding would be the grandest day of her life and they stole that from her. We need to give it back. And she's the Queen for godssake!"_

Since then he's been showering her with one extravagant wedding gift after another. 

How can one compete with that? 

Even Bran sent Sansa three cute Rosy-finches that Sandor laughed at telling her now she finally has her own little birds

So as part of her wedding gift from me, I was going to wear a dress all day and that she had full reign on the design and everything.

The smile that erupted from Sansa was worth it - especially when for a moment as she hugged me and took my measurements, gushing about what designs she had in mind made her completely forget all their gifts. Well, more Jon's jealousy and irritation by my simple gift than anything was worth the sacrifice. 

I looked at the dress then that was hung delicately over the screen in my room. It was Grey with white trimmings with the high neckline of its Northern cut embroidered with racing wolves with yellow eyes. On the dresser, I thought it was a corset but when I looked at it, it was a cross between a corset and a bronze armor with bronze chains and of course, direwolf carvings on the leather. A note read that it was to be worn over the dress like an ornamental armor. I knew it was likely inspired by what Cersei used to wear over her dresses, but if only the idea for nothing about it looked less a Northern armor - though clearly, more feminine. 

There was another dress beside it - my day dress, because Sansa can't have me dirtying the one I'll wear for the wedding.

That's her reasoning anyway.

I think, it's more about her joy in getting me in two dresses without complaint.

But it's her day and after what we made her go through on top of her Queening and other things, she deserves to have it all today.

At least the day dress she made me was lighter and allowed room for me move about - she even said I could wear my riding boots with it. How does she know me so well?

I washed my face, cleaned my mouth, and sunk down on the clawfoot tub where the water was still warm.

_I nearly scared the poor handmaidens that tried to discreetly prepare it._

Thank goodness I realized, otherwise I wouldn't be enjoying this bath Sansa likely drew for me. No doubt I'll have another waiting for me before the wedding...where I'd likely get the inevitable scrubbing I waved off this morning.

At least she didn't use her flowery oils. I don't want to smell like a garden.

This smelled like apples.

_Apples reminded me of--_

Seven hells, did Jon tell Sansa about Gendry? What am I thinking.

Of course he did.

_Damn traitor._

I pinched my nose, held my breath, and dunked below the water.

Quiet.

Nothing but the dull lapping of soapy warm water against my skin.

_How long has it been since I've had this much quiet?_

I stayed as long as I could, emerging only when I absolutely had to with one large gulp of air.

I opened my eyes and watched as my vision alternated clear and blurry while drips of water ran down my face.

I leant back against the tub for a moment and just let the warm water calm me.

_How long has it been since I've had a proper bath?_

Oh right.

King's Landing with their garden oils and soap.

Most likely so you can't smell the shit in the streets.

My eyes drifted close again.

This was nice.

More than nice.

A godsend for my suddenly sore muscles from sparring with Jon and helping him out as the temporary master-of-arms. 

I could've fallen asleep until I heard voices in the hallway outside my room. Opening my eyes, I sat up before reaching for the wash cloth and started scrubbing myself starting with my arms. 

Silently, even humming a song I heard in Braavos, I continued scrubbing.

The water sloshed and frothed from my actions, blurring in soap and filth after each scrub and rinse. 

I watched as my skin, turn white then pink, revealing a map of fresh scratches and scars. Some old.

Some new. 

Some by accident.

Some with names.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Scrub.

_A line from a sword._

                   Rinse.

_A fallen face and a name._

**Repeat.**

I reached my stomach where the worse of the scars were.

Three straight puckered lines where the Waif stabbed to kill.

One for escaping Joffrey and his kingsguards.

One for escaping Tywin.

One for escaping the Waif. 

Three times I was almost killed.

_Scrub._

**Rinse.**

I lathered my hair with oil then rinsed, not saving it as last.

There was one more part to clean.

I took the wash cloth once more, and started scrubbing my hands. 

As before, it won't come off.

No matter how hard I scrub, the stains would always be there.

Blood.

Blood, and faces, and names.

_Scrub._

I dropped the cloth.

Reached for the jar of water.

And **rinsed.**

It's just another bath.

It's just another day.

One step after the other. 

I dried myself then started dressing. 

Small clothes. Shift. Long Socks. Chainmail. Dress. Boots. Hair.

I grabbed my belt and strapped Needle to my left, then reached for my heavy cloak.

Only one more thing.

I heard her before I saw her enter, my riding gloves between her teeth as she sat in front of me.

"Thank you, Nymeria. Shall we start the day?"

* * *

 The castle was stirred awake early.

Everywhere I go, people were busy doing something in preparation for the wedding, but none were too busy to stop, nod, or bow when they see me.

_Princess Arya._

_Lady Stark._

_She-wolf of Winterfell._

I wanted to cringe each time I was called Princess or Lady, but I was too emboldened with each flag and banner bearing our house sigil that decorated every room and every hall like wolves racing across the keep. I kept my back straight and my eyes firm as I strode through the walkways.

Everyone knew who I was now.

But do I?

Who was I?

I started my rounds by visiting Rickon's room - the one that was most damaged by the fire. 

Sansa did a good job in trying to get the nursery to look like it was before, though she kept one small bed occupied - and there laid one of Rickon's shirts, a tin soldier, a wooden wolf, and a giant tapestry above it, painted with the likeness of Shaggydog. 

Rickon was six when I last saw him. He was small and wild and eager. While he loved Sansa's warm hugs and songs, he loved playing with me the most. I indulged in his mischief and let him help me with my own. 

I picked up the soldier, remembering how jealous I was when Rickon gave this favorite toy to Sansa. But then, that was the time the Cassels made Sansa cry so I couldn't be mad for a long time. 

I picked up his shirt, likely too small on the tall and gangly frame Jon told me he had when he saw him, and held it to my nose. 

I don't know how Sansa found this - where she found this but it still, even so very faintly, smelled like Rickon - like snow and dirt and  _wolf._

He had the wolfsblood too. 

At least he was with mother and father and yes, even Robb now - with four wolves to play with. 

I skipped over Bran's room because he was coming home. No doubt Sansa had it rebuilt and inside it the special chair he could wheel by himself - a gift from not only the Imp, but also from the Kingslayer. I'll come visit this when Bran's here.

Very hesitantly, I walked over the farthest room at the West wing where the smell of ash and smoke was getting stronger and stronger, the walls growing dark and darker still. Nymeria growled and whined beside me knowing to whom this belonged last.

This - this room, Sansa never touched or even stepped close to, although she always felt guilty for not even attempting to rebuild it. 

Jon told me he once found Sansa at this very hall where the walls were only starting to blacken, her eyes wide and terrified while her body trembled. 

After coaxing her back to her chambers, Jon torched it down a second time - third for the history - but second by his own hand. 

 _Good._ I thought as I wondered if I might get away with torching it again - or maybe convincing Sansa to torch it herself.

I can't imagine it. 

Sansa's screams and tears and blood staining Robb's bed and floors.

But it happened. 

My chest tightened and I reminded myself that I wasn't mad at Robb anymore. But in truth, I still struggled with it. What could he have done when he found out Sansa was being beaten for his victories? What could he be thinking if he somehow saw Sansa marry into the house that betrayed and killed him and mother? Would he be filled with pride and admiration in thinking that she chose the best political action of solving a feud with a marriage? For the 'most peaceful' way of taking back Winterfell? If the Boltons didn't betray him, would he consent to legitimising Ramsay and marrying Sansa to that bastard as a reward for taking Winterfell back from the Ironborn? Or maybe marry Sansa to another lord - to Robyn Arryn for the Vale? Or maybe the Frey anyway like he and mother promised me to? 

If I hadn't read Robb's letters to Sansa, I would have said yes to every one of those questions except the first two, following the reasoning Sansa gave when he chose the Kingslayer over us. Family. Duty. Honor. His family weren't just us anymore but the whole of the North. He would choose what would the majority would benefit from. 

As much as I still grumbled over it, he really did what best he could. 

Standing over the blackened doorway, I tried to see the large wooden door with the brass wolf knocker, tried to see Robb's boots to be cleaned by the door, tried to see his training armor beside his first real heir-of-Winterfell armor displayed proudly on the east wall, the writing desk with Trout and Direwolf carving given by Grandfather Hoster where stacks of books, letters, and maps next to his favorite falcon feather quill - again a gift, but this time from Lord Jon Arryn and a fresh box of wax for his own sigil stamp. I stepped closer, limiting my breathing lest the burnt smell overwhelm me. I tried to gloss over the charred frames and broken pieces of glass and more wooden splinters that scattered all over, instead seeing the wooden miniature carvings Jory, and Bran gave him, a basket filled with ribbons - favors from different ladies, lowborn and highborn, with handkerchiefs and other trinkets, Jon and I teased him with while Theon made rude jokes at. I tried to see the wooden sword that was shorter and lighter than what he used, kept here despite earning suspicion from others. Likely everyone already knew it was mine and he was just hiding it for me so mother and septa, even father wouldn't get mad at me. Contrary to what people believed, it wasn't Jon who started teaching me how to fight. 

It was Robb. 

Though he agreed with the protests against wanting to learn the sword, he defended me and convinced mother of an alternative - the bow. My first weapon. It's more lady-like a weapon, he said. But then after what happened to Sansa with the Rhyswell boy, the one who kissed her without her permission, he allowed Jon to teach me the basics of defending myself in secret, while he taught me how to ride well - something more accepting by the public. 

When I was still in Harrenhall, I remembered speaking about him - defending him subtly in front of Tywin Lannister himself when I was still his cupbearer. I prayed so much for Robb's victory and my heart filled with pride learning of his victories there and Tywin showing some respect for him. So I did my best to extract any information I could get while planning my escape and eventual reunion with him where I can fight by his side.

Though there was doubt I couldn't help forming then.

Robb was every bit as father raised him. Noble. Brave. Strong. A hero come alive from the songs - a king.

I was so proud, so very proud to be called his sister. 

_Robb will beat you all._

He'll kill the Lannisters, save Sansa, and then rule the North as King. 

_Yet would he still want me after all that I did?_

What use would he have with me? 

 

Although I did force myself to remember all the time Robb stood up for me and never cared what I wore or did or said, only lightly reminding me in jest what mother would think and then proceed to cover for me while I ran off.

Remember cursing myself from even doubting.  _Of course he'd pay a handsome ransom for me._

Remember that Robb loved each of us fiercely. Even if he adored Sansa best, he would always have each and every one of our backs before anyone else. Never mind that he dotes on Sansa the most, relies on Jon the most because he always,  _always_ gave each of us his time of day.

So I believed with all my heart that he would do whatever it took to get us back like what Uncle Brandon and father did for Aunt Lyanna. 

But then this thing with the Kingslayer and naming Jon heir... it was more than me getting mad about him for abandoning and letting go of Sansa. The truth is, how could he abandon me? 

Maybe he wanted to believe I was dead rather than be a hostage or appear ready to marry Black Walder Frey. 

There were so many ifs.

I could very much forgive him all that if only he didn't cavort with a foreigner over his Frey intended. 

How can that be worth more than his word? 

A woman he only met for only a few moon turns over the sisters he helped raised.

Or rather, how could he do that to his bannermen? 

How can I understand it when I've seen what hopeless love could do?

Jaime and Cersei. Aunt Lysa's love for Petyr. Petyr Baelish's love for mother. Even Sansa's love for Joffrey and Joffrey's sick obsession for her tears - the closest thing to love he'd have. And of course, Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark's love for each other. Each one of these fatal loves caused wars.

Don't we ever learn?

Didn't  _he?_

He knew Sansa married Tyrion by force and duty. Why couldn't he do the same? They were the ones who knew duty the most. Sansa married Ramsay for duty too. If Jon wasn't here, no doubt she'd marry SweetRobin or Baelish for duty too. Seven hells, she's marrying a man raised as her brother for duty! It's only fortunate that the two idiots fell in love making their union more than duty. 

I felt Nymeria whining again as she brushed her nose against my cheek. I smiled a little and hugged her as she licked my face. She was bigger than me now - almost as big as a horse. Wild and fearless as she has adjusted to be when I sent her off to the woods to fend for herself lest she be killed. But here she was, still sensitive to me and showing me her loyalty still despite the last image of me she had was of I throwing rocks and sticks at her - ordering her to leave. 

_Just like you._

A voice reminded me.

I sighed and sobered. Finally coming to accept that though I had my doubts of being accepted by Robb despite doing questionable things, I still believed in my heart and soul that I could slaughter a whole village and he would still accept me with open arms. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

And this mistake gave Robb great happiness despite all that was thrust upon him. 

It was my turn to hide a training sword for him. 

I still couldn't understand how romantic love could be worth that all, but maybe in time, maybe through Jon and Sansa, I would. 

But for now, acceptance was the first step. 

I left the room to walk over to the crypts, making a reminder to myself to convince Jon in helping me repair Robb's room. 

We should take a page from Sansa's book.

Rebuilding is ten times more satisfying than destruction. 

* * *

 In just a few hours, I would be giving Sansa away to Jon's protection.

For a few moments - I would be the Head of House Stark, given the most important task of cloaking Sansa with our sigil, giving away the most important thing in the North away and asking who dared take her with the weight of our absent family members heavy on my words and shoulders. 

I didn't want to at first.

It should be father.

It should be Robb.

It should even be Bran or Rickon more than me.

Seven hells, Sansa  _should_ giver herself away. 

Everyone knew their place.

Everyone knew what parts they should play.

I was a Princess of a powerful Kingdom.

I was a Lady of a Noble house.

Yes, I was the heir but only the heir presumptive.

Once Jon and Sansa have children, I won't even be that anymore.

Their children would be heir apparent to two kingdoms as will their children's children. 

Again, where should I be?

Should I stay and be one of Sansa's Queensguard? 

Should I take over as master-of-arms? 

Should I ask to be part of her small council?

Should I find a lord to marry and run a keep of my own?

I know I'd need to be here by Sansa's side when Jon leaves for the great war.

But after that, what is left for me?

 

 **|** "You _will marry a high Lord and rule his castle. And your sons, shall be knights, and princes, and lords."_

 

I remember my answer to father's words.

_"No. That's not me."_

Then who are you? I could almost hear Jaqen's voice as he asked me every day I was at the House of Black and White. 

Who am I indeed?

 

I was still drying my hair and keeping it from the dress I was laced into after a good scrub down from the maids. I sent them off before they could touch my hair, insisting that it was still too short to style decently.

Wrapping my hair, my hands found themselves next, examining the dress Sansa made for me, the whole of me still uncomfortable to wearing a dress after so long - a  _proper_ dress, as I call it because my day dress allowed to many concessions to feel like a proper one despite looking it. 

It truly was a piece of work and Sansa had outdone herself with the design and embroidery and other embellishments. Stark colors. Fur trimmed. Direwolves everywhere. 

Shift. Stockings. Corsets. Even an armor for a bodice still made me feel like a proper girl - one maybe even mother would approve proudly.  _Mother._

Despite mother's failing attempts to make a lady out of me, she kissed and cared for each of my wounds and bruises, and now that I think about it, the breeches I kept in the bottom of my trunk would always be mysteriously mended in careful stitches. I don't think Jon can even manage that. And Sansa, perfect stitching as she had, could not have mended it was best as only mother could and why would she then when I would stuff her bed with sheep dung?

But right now, even if I didn't look in the mirror, with a dress this pretty, I was sure to look like a lady.

I sat down by my dresser, not looking at the mirror yet while I started brushing my hair, likely wearing it same as Father, same as Jon - half pulled back in a knot.

**|** “Do _you want to live, boy? North. We’re going North. You’re Ari the orphan boy. No one asks too many questions to orphan boys. No one gives three shits. Now what’s your name?”_

 

Yoren cut my hair, making me the orphan boy everyone mistook me for when I told them I was Ned Stark's daughter. 

So a boy I became even if I was, four times, called out.

Jaqen H'gar. Tywin Lannister. The Hound. And of course...

 

**| "** _I should be calling you 'my lady'."_

_"You wouldn't be my family. You'd be m'lady."_

_Gendry._

I looked in the mirror then and saw my reflection, even gasping a little at how... _girl_ I looked and Gendry's voice still in my head.

 

**|** _"You look like my sister. She was beautiful, and willful...and dead before her time."_

 

That's right. The wolfsblood. I had the wolfsblood in me. Father cautioned me with it along with everyone else. But it was only now that I realized they weren't aiming to  _tame_ me when in fact, they wanted me to learn  _with_ it. It didn't matter if I was a boy or girl or anyone they wanted me to be. Aunt Lyanna didn't die because she was a girl.

Father, mother, Robb, and Rickon didn't die because they were who people saw them us.

They died because of decisions.

Right. Wrong. Both. Neither.

Everyone made choices they'd have to live with come hell or high water.

 

**|** _"Boy, girl, You are a sword, that is all."_

 

I stood up, turning away from any mirror then and reached for Needle, strapping it to my person. Just holding it made my thoughts more focused and calm as it's been doing for me ever since. 

_Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, my mother and my father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me 'little sister.'"_

I saw it then, glinting on top of my dresser.

A small bronze circlet with running wolves and topaz eyes.

From outside the window, it was still snowing even as the sky was darkening. 

 

**|** _"Look at me. You're a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words."_

 

I did.

I never forgot.

Not even for a second.

So I walked over to the chest by the foot of my bed, opened it, and retrieved a white cloth. 

Unfolding it, slowly, feature by feature, revealing a grey wolf running across a white field, almost perfectly stitched with yellow topazes, sapphires, and onyx stones as best I could when I stubbornly took the task of making the cloak I would place on Sansa's shoulders as her maidencloak, before Jon replaces it with his. 

It didn't feel right that she would make her own wedding cloak. 

_Not when it was mother's task to make it for her._

I folded it again and placed it and Robb's letters inside one of Robb's tunic I had Uncle Edmure scour over in Riverrun, and placed it on top of my bed before reaching for my heavy cloak - another of Sansa's fine work over my shoulders, clasping the iron direwolves together. 

Dress. Sword. Cloak. Gift. 

Only one more article to go. 

A whine behind me made me almost laugh out loudly when I turned around and saw Nymeria with my crown between her teeth. 

I ruffled her head and took the crown from her, draped the maidencloak over my arm, left the letters for now, and walked back to the large looking mirror Sansa had placed  -  _just for today as she ordered._

 

I looked at myself in the mirror and I both recognized and didn't, the young woman staring back at me.

 

I arranged the crown on my head.

I still didn't know what my final place in the world would be, but I knew where I should be, what I represented, and what I should do, now. 

As Sansa said, I was still young and I still had time, and I still had names on my lips every night.

For now, that was more than enough. 

**|** _"Finally, a girl is No One."_

 

With my scars underneath my lavish clothes and armor, I was still No One when I need to be.

With Nymeria by my side, I was a Warg.

With Needle strapped to me, I was all my brothers and Sansa and all our direwolves. 

With the heavy cloak on my shoulders, the white maidencloak on my arm, I was my father and my mother. 

And now with this crown, and all the wolves in my clothes, in my heart, in my mind, and in my soul.

I knew what I would answer when they asked me who I was later.

 

"Arya, of the House Stark of Winterfell."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. The reason it took too long to finish this as I originally plan was because I realized too late that I wrote parts that were best in Sansa's POV. So I had to make changes. 
> 
> I hope you like it! I know that Arya is still struggling with what role she is meant to have as her siblings have each established theirs but this felt more realistic as she still has many issues She is aware though of her many options. She could still be a Queensguard, she could be a Lady of a great House, she could even travel and Sansa and Jon would never stop her, only counsel and remind her that Winterfell would always be her home. She's still young and healing and it happens more gradually for some. But the most important thing is that, even if she struggles for what her place is, she never forgot and never will forget who she is, above all and over any role she decides to fulfill, and that is Arya Stark of Winterfell. 
> 
> She does love Robb and I hope I explained her complicated feelings for him here.  
> And though some Arya/Gendry is implied very very very briefly and subtly in the books (though originally she was meant to have a love triangle with Jon and Tyrion but was scrapped) and the show, that didn't have time to, well, happen and blossom. So it still stands that she doesn't quite understand how romantic love was worth forsaking honor. 
> 
> And that's it. This is it! Arya's POV done! If you've read Jon's POV: Where will we go, some of the off-page events are here, in a way. I've also laid down some continuity pearls to link with the other POV's especially the upcoming ones in Robb's and Sansa's. 
> 
> Thank you so so so much for the support! I know some of you might be more interested with the Jon/Sansa in clicking this, but I did say that - that relationship was only background. But if you didn't and went for Arya then thank you so much and I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> There were many quotes I took from both show and books alike and scattered throughout this story. Arya's been left to her own devices for so long, she only has the words said to her as her guides most of the time. And instead of making up those advices, I felt it was better to include what was actually canon. All of them are marked with who said them, italicized, and center formatted. 
> 
> Also, Arya's quote about Needle was from the book. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading and advanced thanks for those who are kind enough to leave kudos and comments, etc! I'm not that greedy for them, but they sure don't hurt. :) Just two more POVs and my series is done.


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